


I'd Write You a Lullaby

by paradis



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradis/pseuds/paradis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is in this forever. Steve is Danny’s forever because they are together and that’s what people who love each other do. They stick together, no matter what. Steve won't give up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Write You a Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I have spent... many long weeks working on this story and I've broken and torn apart this story like you wouldn't believe; I've also been in a panic about it and then thrown things over it and it's responsible for many small handfuls of Excedrin, if we're gonna get real honest up in here.  
> 2)At the bottom of this story, there are a million things I will be thankful for. Because I couldn't have done it without those things. So yeah.  
> 3) And um, I really hope this story isn't a complete trainwreck, y'know?

_"Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of  
intellect. The wisest know nothing."  
~Ralph Waldo Emerson_

 

There’s an empty nursery in the McGarrett-Williams house. It’s painted a delicate lavender color with white furniture, stuffed animals sitting on top of the wardrobe and butterflies dancing across the walls that glow in the dark. The furniture is antique, painstakingly picked out, hundreds and hundreds of dollars spent on it. But the room itself is empty of anyone – there isn’t any baby filling up the space with cooing laughs and shrieking cries in the middle of the night. The room is directly across from Steve and Danny’s room and shares a wall with Grace’s room.

Steve tries his hardest to remember to keep the door shut to it at all possible times because he knows what happens when he doesn’t.

He knows the door hasn’t been shut when he comes downstairs in the morning to Danny gripping a cold cup of coffee, staring into space. His eyes are blank, empty and underneath them are grey shadows. Steve grips the doorjamb in an effort not to turn and run right back out of the room so he doesn’t have to _deal_ with this.

Instead he pulls all of his strength together and pushes his feet forward, walking into the kitchen. Danny doesn’t even blink but Steve notices the minute grip on his coffee mug tightening just that much. Steve thanks his lucky stars that he’s at least semi-aware and thinks that he might be able to bring him out of it. He keeps going and kneels down next to him. “Danny,” he whispers and reaches out and brushes a finger over his cheek. Danny’s eyes flicker over to him and Steve bites his lip.

Danny’s eyes used to be blue – as blue as the sky, filled with joy and happiness and memories that were so obviously amazing that he could never let them go. They used to light up the entire room and force everyone to naturally shift towards him when he was near them because they made him beautiful. Now – now they are _dim_ – Steve thinks, tightening his grip just a bit on Danny’s thigh. They are dim and if anyone looked at Danny when they were in the room, they would steer away from him because he would make them _sad._ They are grey and dim and sad and overwhelming and Steve tries to avoid looking directly into them very much, these days – he’s ashamed to admit it even to himself.

“Danny,” he says again and Danny only blinks at him and Steve can see that this is going to be one of those days, a day where Danny doesn’t want to talk very much. So Steve opts for talking for the both of them instead, rubbing one hand along Danny’s thigh and one finger over his cheekbone. “Did you eat yet? I can make toast, okay? And you need more coffee – that’s cold. And then we need to get ready for work, Danno. Busy day full of a bunch of paperwork ahead of us, you know?”

He tries to smile but it comes out twisted and mangled and feels ugly and distorted on his face. Danny is still blinking blankly at him so he stands up and starts making breakfast, talking all the way. “Who knows?” he’s saying as he pops four pieces down into the toaster, “Maybe I’ll even blow something up today, Danno, just for you. I haven’t done that in a while, you know? I bet you miss it.”

Danny is watching him move around the kitchen, blinking slowly and finally Steve is tired of the silence. He turns around and takes a deep breath, “Can you just – say something, Danny?”

Danny blinks at him once, twice and then stands up slowly and makes his way upstairs. Steve hears the shower running two minutes later.

He thinks he’s going to bolt the door to the nursery shut. He thinks he’s going to burn this very house down if it means Danny doesn’t have to see that room. He thinks he’s going to eventually clean the damn room out. But he knows that he doesn’t want to, not really.

He’s still holding out hope.

The toaster pops up.

\--

They have lost a lot of things. Danny’s noise is one of them. It used to fill up the empty spaces around them and now it’s disappeared. Heavy, black silence takes its place and Steve fights not to choke on it a good part of the week. Where they used to argue in the car constantly, they now drive silently while Danny stares straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts. Where Danny used to rant endlessly about anything _island style_ he now just chews on his lip blankly while the island world around him goes on.

Where Danny used to wave his hands frantically to imitate something, he now keeps his hands folded in his lap or down by his side, waiting patiently for anyone to finish what they’re doing.

They have lost a lot of things, but Steve’s lost Danny, too. He isn’t sure how much longer he can go on without Danny’s _noise_ but it doesn’t matter; Steve is in this for the long haul. Steve is in this forever. Steve is Danny’s forever because they are together and that’s what people who love each other do. They stick together, no matter what.

Steve won’t give up.

\--  
Danny doesn’t do much work on cases on days like this. He mostly sits in his office and works on paperwork and stares into space. Steve checks on him and tries to keep the caseload as light as possible when these days strike. Some months it seems like there are more bad days than good and some months it seems like things are finally looking up, like they might – not get _past_ – but move forward from this.

And then Steve will forget to shut the door to the nursery the whole way when he’s cleaning and they’re back to square one and he feels like going on a murderous rampage and killing everyone off this island. Steve will swear he’s never going into that room to clean again but each time, he’s drawn back in with his duster and the vacuum and – there’s nothing soothing about it – but there’s something about staring at everything they almost had and just _thinking_ and he can’t quite seem to let it go.

He usually comes out of the room in a daze and that’s why he always forgets to shut the door.

Which is why Danny will wake up in the middle of the night, one of his terrible nightmares on his mind and the breeze from their French doors will have blown the door open even wider so that when he tries to go downstairs to grab a water bottle, he can see directly into the room and just – wanders in. Steve has lost count of the amount of times he’s walked in to see Danny sitting on the white wooden rocking chair, a stuffed animal clutched in his arms, just staring at the glow-in-the-dark winged-tips of the butterflies, tears reflecting in the moonlight. Steve will try and get him to come back to bed but despite the loss of Danny’s voice and grand gestures, he still hasn’t lost his stubbornness, and nine times out of ten Steve goes back to an empty bed, listening to Danny’s sniffles across the hall.

Once, he stayed there with him the entire night, but the weight of the sadness in the room was suffocating and Steve thought he might choke on it. There was just Danny, his tears and the creak of the wooden rocking chair the entire night while Steve sat watching him against the wall. Neither of them had sleep and the next day Steve doesn’t think they said three words total to one another.

Now, Steve walks into Danny’s office and sits down on his couch, swinging one leg over the other and watching him type on the computer. When Danny is finished, he looks up at Steve but still doesn’t say anything, just licks his lips and frowns.

“You’re sad,” Steve says and leans forward on his elbows. “And I understand that. I just – wanted to apologize for losing my temper this morning.”

Danny doesn’t say anything and Steve doesn’t expect him to, but it still hurts anyways – not the fresh gunpowder sting of a bullet grazing across his skin like it first did when Danny stopped talking and when it all happened, but a dull ache in the pit of his chest. He stands up and straightens his shirt and starts to walk out. When he reaches the door Danny coughs like he has something to say so Steve stops, grips the handle of the door tight, but doesn’t turn around.

And Danny says softly, almost barely-there-enough that Steve nearly misses it, “I’m sorry.”

Steve swallows down misery and sick and replies. “Don’t be,” and walks out.

\--  
Danny gets the call from Rachel that she needs him to pick Grace up at school two hours later, but Steve takes it because Danny doesn’t even notice his phone ringing – he’s too busy _staring_ at a spot on the wall. Steve grits his teeth and speaks into the phone. “Jacob has caught the flu,” Rachel is telling Steve, “And I don’t want Grace to get it as well – not with school and everything. You can keep her for a few days, right? Into the weekend?”

Steve is nodding and staring at Danny, concerned. “Yes, of course Rachel,” he replies and his hand curls into an anxious fist down by his side involuntarily at the sound of the baby crying on Rachel’s other side.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, “I’ve got to go, give Grace my love,” and then she hangs up and Steve is never more grateful in his life to not hear a baby crying.

“We’ve got Grace,” Steve tells Danny and his head snaps up. He arches an eyebrow as if to question why and Steve continues, “Jacob is sick.” Danny flinches visibly at the mention of Grace’s half-brother and then tries to cover it up, but Steve notices it anyways. He crosses the room and kisses Danny’s forehead. Danny’s tension relaxes a little bit and he leans back.

“I’ll go get her, hmm?” Steve murmurs into his hair and Danny grips his arm for a moment before he nods and goes back to his paperwork. “You should get ready to go, Danny. We’ll take the day whenever I get back, okay?”

Danny doesn’t say anything, but that’s nothing new.

\--  
“Dad!” Grace throws her arms around Steve as she climbs into the car before hurriedly buckling her seatbelt.

“Gracie,” Steve says, smiling gently at her. It’s been long enough now that he’s used to her calling him that but there’s still something overwhelming inside of his chest whenever she does. To go from Uncle Steve to Dad – it’s an honor and a blessing – and Steve treasures it with everything inside of him every single day. He carries it heavy in his heart and reminds himself sternly every morning that he _is_ a father now. Regardless of what has happened.

He’s still a father.

“Where’s Danno?” She asks, digging through her backpack for what Steve knows is one of the many hundred-calorie snack packs Rachel and he and Danny always keep in there for her. Grace loves having something to munch on and to keep it light and healthy they resolved with these. She comes up with something and there’s a rustling noise as she opens the snack and starts eating.

“He’s at the office, Gracie. We’re going to swing by and get him and then head home, okay?” Grace stops in her rustling and Steve can feel her serious brown eyes on him.

“Daddy’s not having a good day, is he?” She asks softly and Steve flinches.

What has been the most surprising is the way Grace takes it in stride. When they broke the news to her, she cried, but she was probably the one to pick Danny up the most. She was probably the strongest. Their ten year old little girl probably holds them up more than they ever could on their own. Grace is still saddened by it, but she has an amazing support system and with that, she’s able to move forward more than Danny and Steve have been able to. Steve supposes it helps that she’s got her own little brother to focus on, still – even if that makes him sound bitter and unfair.

What has been the most surprising with Grace is the way she’s seemed to mature beyond her age with this. She hugs Danny when he’s having a bad day and holds him close, murmuring things that she never tells Steve about in his ear and then curls up in their bed with them and watches movies all day long on her weekends with them if Danny just doesn’t feel like talking. Steve knows that if this had happened to any other ten year old and they’d lost some of the attention they used to get constantly, they’d be feeling hurt and left out and angry, but Grace seems to understand fully and completely. Instead of throwing temper tantrums – which Steve seems more prone to do, he admits to himself shamefully – she searches for a solution.

Steve swallows and looks over at the little girl in the seat next to him and she reaches out her hand to grip his tightly. “No,” he says, “Danno’s not having a very good day.”

\--  
Their movie collection is expansive and seems to grow more and more, Steve thinks as he observes Grace picking something off the shelf. To be fair, over fifty percent of it belongs to Disney productions, as is proven by Grace picking out Tangled again and popping it into the player before she crawls up onto the bed between Steve and Danny. But it seems to grow with each weekend that Danny is silent and there is only so many times Steve can watch the same movie. Danny wraps an arm around her and Grace smiles up at him and kisses his cheek. Danny doesn’t smile but he does kiss her forehead and Steve thinks that counts for something. Steve wraps his own arms around Grace’s other shoulder, shifts to get in a comfortable position and settles in to watch a movie he’s had to have seen at least ten times before – if not more. Steve briefly thinks this is the next movie to go on his blacklist, but then he hears Grace’s overjoyed giggle and – well, she doesn’t do that too often anymore, she’s mostly all seriousness these days around them.

For that, Steve will watch the same damn movie ten thousand times over again.

Steve dozes on and off throughout the movie, stirring now and again when Grace laughs extra-hard and shakes in his arms and waking up for good when she moves to get off the bed and put another movie in. He glances at the clock and sees that he should probably get around to making dinner, but doesn’t have the energy to. He is in his warm bed with his family and watching movies, Grace is laughing enough for the three of them and Danny – Danny isn’t laughing but when he glances over, he realizes that his fingers have managed to tangle with Danny’s and Danny is watching Grace, the corner of his lips twitching with an almost-smile.

So Danny is making progress. There is that.

Steve tightens his grip minutely and Danny looks over, startled for a minute before he blinks and tightens his own grip in return, curling his fingers closer with Steve’s so it’s no longer a loose grip, they’re now truly holding hands – something they hardly do anymore. Steve’s heart aches with the weight of the meaning of it and he holds onto this moment, staring at Danny. Danny stares back, licking his lips slowly and watching Steve carefully, like he’s afraid Steve might ruin the moment by saying something.

In the end, it’s Grace who says something. “What movie are we watching now?” She demands and Steve blinks, snaps out of it and turns to face her. She’s got her hands on her hips and an eyebrow arched in a very old-Danny-characteristic way, watching them with a big grin on her face. Steve wonders how long she’s been watching them before he smiles at Danny.

“What movie do you want to watch, Gracie?”

She shakes her head, looking frustrated with him. “It’s not my turn to pick. It’s yours and Danno’s. And I’m hungry. Can we have pizza, please?” Steve looks over at Danny, who has snapped his gaze away from him and is now looking down at his lap and chewing on his lip. Steve sighs and pulls his hand away, getting off the bed.

“You and Danno pick out the movie,” he tells her, picking up his cell phone. “I’ll call for pizza and wait for it downstairs.” Grace beams at him and he kisses her forehead on the way downstairs.

When he’s in the kitchen, he grips the countertop in an attempt to gather his thoughts. He thinks about how he was _this_ close to seeing a glimpse of the old Danny when they were holding hands upstairs, _this_ close to catching a true and genuine smile. He thinks about how easily everything is snatched out from under him these days. And then he thinks about how completely unfair it is, because haven’t he and Danny suffered enough?

He slaps his palm against the kitchen wall on his way to answer the door for the delivery boy, angry and frustrated, and a picture frame falls. “Shit,” he curses, but only steps over it to get the pizza before the delivery guy leaves.

When he’s done setting the pizza on the counter, he goes to pick the frame up and realizes what frame he’s broken. “Fuck,” he shouts loudly and hits the wall again. He hears the TV being muted upstairs so that Danny and Grace can listen and he tries to control himself. He stoops down to pick up the pieces of broken glass but his hands are shaking and his eyes are blurring with tears.

Blindly, he thinks he was never this weak before. When he looks up there’s a shadow of Danny hovering over him, staring down at him with sad eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” Steve says in a broken voice.

Danny’s own eyes are blurred with tears at the loss of the picture frame, Steve can tell, but he doesn’t say anything, just stoops down and starts picking up the larger chunks of glass. Steve slides back against the wall.

Grace appears with the broom and dustpan to get the small, impossible-to-pick-up shards a moment later, complete seriousness in her eyes.

Steve runs his fingers over the sonogram picture while Danny throws the large chunks of glass away and Grace runs the broom over the hardwood floors and he doesn’t hide his tears. He shouldn’t have to. When Grace is finished she walks over to him and sits next to him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and whispers in his ear, “I love you, Dad. It’s gonna be okay.”

It’s not, Steve thinks, but it sounds so good coming from her perfect mouth.

\--  
He wakes up feeling disoriented and more tired than when he fell asleep. He looks around the room, noting that it’s empty. Then he looks at the nightstand and notices that there’s a steaming cup of coffee made just the way he likes it sitting there waiting for him. Steve smiles to himself thinking that this will be a good day, at least for Danny.

He picks up the mug and takes a drink before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and wandering out to find Danny. He finds him in the kitchen, scrubbing last night’s dishes. “Morning,” he whispers and Danny snaps his eyes over to him.

His eyes rake over Steve’s form and nod approvingly when they note that he’s found his cup of coffee. Then he says, “Morning babe,” just like yesterday didn’t happen.

Just like he’s done every time he’s had a bad day. It’s hard for Steve to take and hard for him to understand, but he tries his damndest because he knows that Danny’s trying his hardest to be strong. He watches as Danny rinses and sets a plate in the dish drainer and then dries his hands. “Grace should be up in a few minutes,” he’s saying, “I should start breakfast – why are you looking at me like that?” He stops halfway towards the fridge and turns eyes on Steve and Steve swallows hard.

“I’m not – I’m not looking at you like anything,” he murmurs, tracing the rim of his coffee cup and looking down at the floor, “It’s nothing, Danny. Nevermind.”

There’s silence and then Danny says, “Okay,” and goes back to getting breakfast things together.

Bitterly, Steve thinks about how the old Danny would have pressured him into telling him what was on his mind. The old Danny would have talked and talked and bitched and bitched until Steve finally told him – maybe just to shut him up, but at least he still would’ve told him. Now, Steve thinks, Danny doesn’t even really want to hear what is on Steve’s mind, because it hits too close to home.

Something hot and angry rises in Steve’s chest and dares him to speak, anyways, “I’m sorry,” he says. Danny stops with clattering pans and spoons around and there’s dead silence in the kitchen for an entire minute.

“You’re sorry,” he says. “For what?”

“I didn’t mean to break the picture frame, Danno,” Steve says. “I – and I didn’t mean to – we didn’t need that on top of everything else yesterday and I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday morning. I’m sorry for breaking the picture frame of E –“

“Don’t,” Danny says, voice shaky. “Do not say it, Steven. I swear to _God,_ don’t say it.”

“I’m sorry for breaking it!” Steve says insistently, something stubborn clenching its fists around his stomach, forcing words out of his mouth. “It was the only thing we had of El –“

Danny cuts him off with an anguished cry and flings the wooden spoon in his direction; Steve has barely enough time to duck before it comes flying towards him, towards his head. It misses by half in inch and clatters against the wall, the noise echoing in the kitchen. “Shut _up_!” Danny is shrieking when he stands back up, “I told you not to say it! Shut up, shut up, shut up! What the hell is wrong with you?”

He sees a flash of burning anger in Danny’s eyes, old anger, anger that lights his eyes bright blue – the blue Steve fell in _love_ with – and something deep and dark rages inside of Steve. “What’s wrong with me?” He’s shouting back before he can control himself, “What’s wrong with you, Danny? What’s wrong with you that you can’t _say_ it? What’s wrong with you that you can’t even let _me_ say it? What’s wrong with you that you avoid that room like the fucking plague but then you wander in there in the middle of the night and cry and cry and cry and then you just shut yourself off from the fucking world and you won’t let anyone in for the rest of the day – maybe two if we’re lucky? What’s wrong with you, Danny, that you –“ he’s cut off by the wind being knocked out of him as Danny slams him up against the counter and grips two handfuls of his shirt, panting and wild-eyed and fierce looking and Steve’s lips curl up in a part-grimace, half-grin.

It’s twisted, he knows, but there’s a roaring in his ears and he feels like this is the most normal thing that Danny has done since everything has happened.

They’re broken out of their angry trance by a shrieking little girl’s voice screaming, “Danno! Danno! Let _go_ of him Danno! Danno!”

Danny’s grip loosens and he pulls away sharply, like he’s been burned, looking shocked back at Grace, who is looking at him like he’s grown another head and – not fearfully, but sadly. She’s looking at them both sadly, Steve realizes, and the burning fire in his stomach washes away and is replaced with shame. Danny turns his head to Steve again and Steve observes him, notices that his hands are shaking almost more than Steve’s are. He’s blinking back tears and his lips are trembling. He opens his mouth, tries to say something, but nothing comes out and then he shakes his head. He runs his fingers through his hair and grabs his car keys and runs out of the house.

Steve collapses against the counter and takes several deep breaths and Grace looks around the kitchen at the mess of pots and pans and the spilled coffee mug in wonder.

\--  
They named her Ellie.

Ellie Rose McGarrett-Williams.

\--  
It takes four hours, Grace and Steve cleaning the kitchen and not a word between the two of them spoken before Danny returns. When he does, Steve is swimming in the ocean and Grace is sitting on a towel on the beach watching him carefully like he, too, might do a sudden disappearing act.

Steve steps out of the ocean and walks over to Grace, sits next to her on the towel after drying off. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.

“I know,” she says simply, turning her huge brown eyes up at him.

“Danno and I – we don’t – we’re having a hard time, Gracie,” Steve swallows.

“I know,” she says again and Steve is again grateful that she’s such a smart little girl. “But – you’re not going anywhere, right, dad?” She asks it carefully, like she’s afraid of the answer and Steve reaches out and holds her tight. He brushes her hair back and shakes his head fiercely.

“I’m not going anywhere, Grace. Ever.”

“Good,” she says, and is content to stay there, leaning against his chest. They lie back and look at the birds flying across the sky and eventually they both fall asleep. When Steve wakes up, it’s to Danny’s shadow looming over him. It’s only because of his training that he doesn’t jump six feet, instead tightens his hold just slightly on a sleeping Grace in surprise.

Danny’s arms are crossed and he’s looking down at him angrily. “That was out of control,” he says lowly.

“I agree,” Steve says softly.

“You should never have – I shouldn’t have – and –“ it’s like Danny is trying to find the right words, but there doesn’t seem to be any, Steve notices, so he fills in.

“I shouldn’t have kept pushing,” he offers.

Danny nods. “But I shouldn’t have lost my control like that,” he says in return. “And Grace shouldn’t have had to – she should never have seen any of that.”

“I already apologized,” Steve tells him. “She – it’s like she understands, Danny. That we’re trying to get through this one day at a time. And she kind of just… accepts it. But she – she asked if I was leaving.”

Danny’s head snaps up and he looks alarmed and then terrified at the thought. “You’re not!” He cries. “You’re – you’re not, right, Steve?” Again, Steve finds himself shaking his head fiercely and reaching out to tug Danny down onto the towel with them. Danny lies next to him, unsettled at first until Steve runs a hand down his side and kisses the side of his face.

“I’m not ever going anywhere, Danno. You’re stuck with me.” And he doesn’t smile – he never smiles anymore – but he offers him a satisfactory shake of his head and a tightening grip on his wrist before he snuggles in next to Steve and they all sleep on the beach for a few hours.

\--  
Steve wakes up one morning to Danny lying in bed beside him, blues eyes staring at him, head propped up on an elbow. Steve doesn’t say anything, doesn’t act surprised – he wishes he could say he is, but he’s not, just hopeful – just stares back. Danny is quiet for long moments and when he opens his mouth he says, “I don’t dream anymore.”

Steve isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean and he says so. Danny sits up, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, sits his chin on top of them and cocks his head at Steve. “I used to… dream about things, Steve. I used to dream happy things. About you and I. About Grace. I don’t dream anymore. I have – nightmares, sometimes – but not dreams.”

Steve reaches a hand out and wraps it around Danny’s calf, stroking the protruding ankle bone lightly. Danny is avoiding eye contact, gripping his arms in an almost self-conscious manner and Steve wants to take him and wrap him in a million blankets and tell him that it will get better – but how can he tell him that truthfully? How can he tell him that when he doesn’t honestly know if that’s the case?

Instead he leans forward and kisses Danny’s kneecap and sits up beside him, kisses his shoulder, moves his kisses up, up, up, until he reaches his lips. Danny is stiff for a moment, doesn’t kiss back. And then he is kissing back with a passion that Steve hasn’t felt with him for months, a passion that Steve has forgotten Danny holds. He untangles his arms from around his knees and wraps them around Steve’s neck, gasps as Steve sucks a bruise into his collarbone.

Steve thinks he looks beautiful, golden skin against white sheets, tousled blonde against pillows, neck bared for Steve’s pleasure.

Steve thinks there’s something dark and fierce about this sex and he’s not sure he likes it. He kisses down Danny’s chest and back up again and Danny moans and shifts against him.

It’s not until Steve is in him, moving against him, with him, that Danny bites down softly on his shoulder, scratches nails down his back and looks up at him, lust-blown, sad eyes. “Make me dream again, Steve. Give me something to dream about,” he slurs.

Steve comes on an anguished cry and Danny follows not far behind.

\--  
Ellie made it three days.

Three days and a funeral.

Danny never said a word the entire time.

\--  
“Do you think you’ll ever try again?”

Steve spits beer across the table. Chin looks on, unimpressed and Steve tries not to blush. He picks up a napkin and wipes up his mess hurriedly, all the while avoiding eye contact. “What – um, what made you ask that?” He asks, tripping over his words.

Vaguely, he thinks about how he never used to be this unsure of himself. He thinks about how everything that’s happened has made him this way. He never once would admit that maybe being with Danny has made him this emotive. This unsure. This unstable.

Chin arches an eyebrow and shrugs. “Curiosity, I guess. Steve – it doesn’t hurt to… to try again.”

Steve shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. When he’s finished swallowing, he looks Chin dead in the eye, “That’s where you’re wrong, brah. It probably would kill us to try again. It nearly killed us the last time.”

“It was – Steve, what happened last time is not something that happens constantly. She was sick. Not every baby is going to be sick,” Chin argues.

“Do you even know Danny?” Steve demands, glaring at him, “Do you? Even if he wanted to try again, he’d never want to take the chance – he’d be terrified of the odds coming out all wrong. Of it happening all over again.”

Chin looks away, swallowing what is obviously something harsh down and finally says softly, “Yeah, but do _you_ want to try again?”

It’s Steve’s turn to look away.

\--  
Steve comes home to Danny doing laundry while dinner is cooking. The TV is on in the background and Danny is humming tunelessly to himself as he folds clothes in the laundry room. Steve closes the door and silently tries to slip past the room. “Oh, hey,” Danny says, not even turning to look at him. “Did you eat or something? I tried calling you but – no answer,” he shrugs.

Steve tries not to let it get to him that Danny isn’t bothered that Steve was out, that Steve didn’t answer, that Steve needed _space._ When they first got together, before everything happened, neither of them felt the need to ever really be apart. Now it feels as if they constantly look for excuses to not be near one another if they can help it.

Steve grunts, “Was with Chin,” he responds.

“Right,” Danny nods, finally turning around. He avoids eye contact though, carrying the laundry basket out of the room and towards the stairs.

“I can get that, if you want to check on dinner,” Steve sighs, holding his hands out. Danny looks up at him finally, real and honestly for the first time in what seems like days. Steve resists the urge to go upstairs and crawl into their bed and under the covers for the next lifetime; he’s so _tired_ , he thinks. He thinks that they’re just lying to themselves, putting on a façade for Grace when she’s here that they’re maybe okay, but he thinks that maybe even she sees through it these days.

“Right,” Danny repeats and disappears into the kitchen. Steve stares after him for a long moment, gripping the laundry basket. He wonders if this is what they’re destined to be from now on, lonely and empty most of the time, angry with angry and desperate sex the rest of the time. He’s part fearful of it, part exhausted with it, mostly passive.

He’s passive with a lot these days, he knows, but he isn’t sure what else to be. He knows he’s walking on eggshells with Danny and anything he says or does could be the trigger that sends Danny spiraling. He’s not sure if he’s ready to face it yet.

They eat dinner on the couch in silence, watching the television. Grace calls at eight, just like every night and talks to the both of them before wishing them a goodnight. After that, Steve does the dishes and Danny disappears upstairs. Steve finds him in their room on his laptop, doing paperwork he didn’t finish at HQ earlier.

“Hey,” Steve says, stepping into the room. Danny doesn’t look up from his typing, just takes the pen out of his mouth and says,

“Hey.”

“What um – what are you doing?” There’s a pause in the clicking of keys for about ten seconds before it slowly resumes and Danny responds.

“I’m doing paperwork, Steve,” he says slowly, like he’s talking to a four year old. “You know, it needs done by a certain date after a case – you never really do it? _That_ paperwork,” he says. Steve comes over and flops down on the bed, mindful of the files surrounding Danny’s lap. He’s got the conversation from earlier with Chin still on his mind and he wants to approach it, he just… doesn’t know how.

“Danny,” he says quietly. Danny’s typing slows again but like before, he doesn’t look away from the screen.

“Yes, Steve?” He asks.

“Danny do you – do you ever think of…” Steve clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck, staring up at the ceiling nervously. “Do you ever think of trying again?”

The typing comes to a complete standstill and there is two complete minutes of silence – Steve knows because he counted the seconds, the long, uncomfortable stretch of silence between his dreaded question and the sharp intake of breath from Danny’s mouth. He counted the seconds between the question he knows _Danny_ knows Steve has been wanting to ask – knows Danny has been waiting for – and the response he’s not sure he’s going to get. Finally Danny says, “What the fuck, Steve?” in a low voice and Steve twists the sheets between his fingers tightly because he was expecting a response like this but.

But he was hoping for something a little different, okay, he won’t lie.

“I was just –“

Danny slams the laptop closed and files scatter everywhere as he hops off the bed, turning to glare at Steve as he does. His arms are crossed and his eyes are flat, emotionless. It’s nothing like their old fights, or even the one from a few weeks ago in the kitchen – but it doesn’t matter because that’s not what Steve is looking for here, anyways. He’s looking for a discussion about their _future._ He really wants to know where their lives are going these days.

“No, really,” Danny interrupts loudly, “What the fuck are you even – why would you ask that?”

“Because I wanted to know!” Steve says just as loud. “I wanted to know if you’ve ever thought about – trying again,” he says, breathing fast.

Danny stares searchingly at him, as though he’s unsure of how to respond. Finally he says, “No. No, that’s not something I think about because it’s not something that I can go through again. And the fact that you think you _could_ is – it’s sick, Steven. It’s sick. I’m going to bed,” he finishes, grabbing the laptop and setting it on his bedside table with some force.

Once he’s gathered all the files up and set them next to the laptop, he flicks the light off and Steve is surrounded by the darkness and silence – left with loneliness for company.

He’s left with it a lot, these days.

He finally lies down, covers up with the sheet and stares at what seems like an impossibly large distance between he and Danny on the bed.

That space never used to be there.

Slowly, he crawls closer until he’s pressed up against him and Danny flinches, is tense for a minute before he relaxes back against Steve and Steve thinks, _this isn’t right, this is all wrong,_ before he falls into a restless sleep.

\--  
He’s awakened to one of Danny’s nightmares. They’ve lessened a little over the months, but they still happen. Danny is thrashing in his arms and screaming in his sleep and Steve shakes him awake. Danny’s eyes fly open, mouth an _o_ of shock before he snaps it shut, turning his face to look up at Steve. He looks at him for a few seconds before he squirms out of Steve’s arms, “Out – I need - _space_ Steve, out,” he mumbles, pulling out of Steve’s embrace. He crawls over to the very edge of the bed and curls up into the fetal position.

Steve feels like he might throw up.

“Is that it then?” he asks lowly. “What, I – what, I _give_ you these nightmares because I want to _hold_ you, Danny?”

Danny squeezes his eyes shut tightly and it looks like he’s trying to block Steve’s voice out, but Steve goes on, anyways. “Because I want to be near you, because I want to talk to you, I give you these nightmares? Because I maybe want to move on, Danny?” He lets loose a hollow laugh, sitting up. “God, I’m so _fucking sorry,_ Danny.”

Danny’s shaking his head, tears slipping out past his shut eyes, whispering, “No, no, no, no,” over and over and it makes Steve mad, that he’s trying to avoid the conversation so much. Makes him angry that Danny gets away with avoiding these conversations because he just _shuts himself off_ and that’s not fair.

None of it was fair, but it’s especially not fair that Steve is just – dealing with all of this on his own.

“Fine, Danny,” Steve says in a dead voice, “If I’m giving you all these fucking nightmares, that’s just fine. I’ll just go sleep somewhere else so maybe you can sleep better.” He hauls his pillow off the bed and makes his way down the stairs, flopping down on the couch angrily.

He sleeps in fits the rest of the night, and when he does sleep, it’s filled with dreams of his daughter and Danny, crying and pleading with him.

\--  
Danny is shut down in the morning, completely silent, eyes completely blank and withdrawn. Steve is tired and exhausted himself, on his third cup of coffee even though he usually switches to tea after his first cup of coffee. Danny sits at the table and doesn’t even make a move to eat his breakfast and Steve doesn’t have the energy to encourage or force him to. Eventually he just dumps the rest of his coffee down the drain and heads to the shower, leaving Danny to stare at the kitchen wall, a cold plate of eggs and toast sitting in front of him.

When he comes downstairs, Danny is still in the same place. Steve takes the plate and dumps the food down the garbage disposal, turning it on. It grinds the food up noisily and Danny doesn’t even flinch. “Right,” Steve says over the noise, “Well, we need to get to work so. Let’s go then,” he says and watches as Danny slowly blinks and makes his way out of the kitchen, following Steve to the car.

When they get to HQ, Steve throws a look at Chin and Kono and locks himself in his office almost immediately, leaving Danny standing in the middle of the bullpen, staring down at the tech-table almost confusedly. It takes all of two minutes before Kono is knocking on his door and then barging in because – let’s be honest here, personal boundaries don’t exist at 5-0, Steve knows this – a _look_ on her face. “What happened?” She demands, a hand on her hip. Her ponytail flounces behind her for extra measure, sort of like Grace’s does when she’s overly-excited about something. Steve didn’t think Kono was capable of getting ponytails to do such a thing, but he certainly won’t mention it, for fear of any ass-kicking.

“Nothing – well. It’s just a bad day,” he says, sighing and scrubbing at his face.

“ _Obviously,_ ” she states in a tone that says just what she thinks of him being so evasive.

“We had a –“ Steve scratches at the back of his head, avoiding eye contact. “ - _thing_ last night, I guess. And I think maybe that’s probably why Danny’s –“ he gestures out into the bullpen where Chin is coaxing Danny into his office.

“And you’ve suddenly decided you don’t want to deal with him?” Kono arches an eyebrow.

Steve snaps his eyes over to her, heat rising to his cheeks. “Look,” he says angrily, “I’m tired, okay. I didn’t sleep because I was on the fucking couch all night, I had nightmares and nothing is going right these days. I miss – I miss _my_ Danny and you’ll have to excuse me if I’m tired of fucking taking care of the shell of him constantly, okay? I don’t think it’s fair that I should just be expected to go on as if everything is great and wonderful but it’s just fucking peachy if Danny falls apart.” He’s breathless when he finishes and Kono’s face morphs into something sympathetic.

“Steve,” she says softly. “No one is expecting you to do everything.”

“Yes they are!” he says, flinging a file across his office in anger. “And even if they weren’t, what am I supposed to do – just leave him?”

Kono shakes her head. “No,” she says. “But maybe talking would be a good start.”

Steve laughs hollowly. “Talking – you think I haven’t tried talking? I tried talking last night. That ended up with Danny like this and me on the couch. I tried talking a few weeks ago and that nearly ended in a fist fight – that _Grace_ walked in on. We’re – we’re falling apart, Kono, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.” He swallows tightly.

Kono stares at him for a long moment before she says lowly, “I have never seen something that you could not fix, boss, I gotta tell you. But I guess everyone meets their match.” And she goes out to help get Danny settled in his office.

Danny surfaces from his zone-out sometime later in the afternoon, but he doesn’t come to Steve’s office – Steve just hears him talking quietly out in the bullpen to Kono and Chin for a few minutes before returning to his own office. Steve doesn’t leave his office all day, filling out the paperwork that Danny absolutely can’t fill out for him and then just fiddling around on his computer, praying a huge case might come up if he’s lucky.

It hits seven, though, and nothing has come up and Kono opens the door again, looking at her watch. “I think it’s time to head out, Boss,” she says, looking up at him. “Chin’s shut everything down for the night, we’re just um – waiting on you.”

“Right,” Steve sighs, “Okay.” Danny is waiting for him by the exit, but he doesn’t make eye contact.

The drive home is silent and they enter the house, turning on the lights and enter the code to the alarm system in sync as always. The thing is, Steve has realized today, that for all that they’ve lost, they haven’t lost their partnership, still. Somewhere deep down, it is still there, ingrained in them. They still move in sync together, still know what the other person likes and loves, still know who needs backup and who needs to lead and when. They’re still meant for each other – they’ve just lost the way, he thinks.

He isn’t sure how, exactly, to get back on the path.

\--  
Ellie had Danny’s blonde hair. Danny’s blue eyes. Ellie _was_ Danny’s, Steve knew it from the minute she was born. Could tell from her physical features, but also from the way she flailed as she came out, screamed and cried. He’d grinned at Danny across the delivery room, the knowing grin, the grin that said, _she’s finally here, our baby is finally here._

 _We’re parents of this beautiful baby together, finally._

Ellie was perfect, Steve thought, in every sense of the word. Gorgeous, with all ten fingers and toes and so tiny and delicate.

She wasn’t breathing right, they told him as they rushed her to NICU.

A heart condition they hadn’t found all through the pregnancy. Severe. Lucky if she’ll make it through the night. Steve remembers Danny’s knees had given out from underneath him and Steve had had to grip the cold concrete hospital wall to stop the world from spinning around him. Steve remembers they didn’t leave the NICU waiting room that night and he’d had to hold Danny through his body-racking sobs the entire night.

Steve tries not to relive it because it burns through his body, painful and almost unreal every time he recalls it.

Ellie never even made it home.

\--  
“Steve,” Danny says, coming into the living room. Steve is sprawled on the couch, staring up at the ceiling thinking about nothing and everything as he’s done for the last two hours. They haven’t said a word to each other the entire day. “Steve I – you don’t give me nightmares,” he whispers.

Steve doesn’t respond, keeps staring up at the ceiling. He’s not even sure what he’d say if he could say anything. He guesses maybe this is his vow of silence, for once. “You – you probably even make them better, Steve but I – you said about t-trying again and it scared me because I – I c-can’t – I don’t think I can go through it again, Steve,” Danny says, stumbling over words. “And then – holding me – Steve, the only time we touch each other anymore is when we’re fighting or fucking, it seems like,” Danny breaks off in a whisper again.

“You’re not the cause of my nightmares, Steve,” he says, voice a little stronger. “Everything that has happened is. And I’m trying to get through it, you have to understand that, but I – I need you there – here.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for so long that Danny peers over the edge of the couch, blue eyes wide and curious, afraid maybe he was asleep while he’d given his speech. Steve snaps his eyes over to look over at him, “Yeah?” he asks lowly, “Well what about me?” and he gets up off the couch and goes into the garage.

Danny follows him. “Steve - _Steve_ what do you need from me?” Danny demands. “You’ve never once through this entire thing given the impression that you’re – you’re having nearly as much trouble.”

Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t know I needed to give an _impression,_ Danno.”

“Steve, that’s not even what I –“

“I’m tired,” Steve interrupts, turning around from reorganizing his tools, “I’m _tired,_ Danny. When was the last time we had a full night’s sleep? When was the last time we sat and watched television like – like normal couples instead of staring off into space, thinking about her? And I – I _want_ to talk about what’s happened, but you just shut me off the moment I mention it. I’m not even allowed to mention her name, do you realize that, Danny? You cut me off before I even get her name out. And if I mention the future, you cut me off there, because that’s not something you want to discuss, either. I’m tired and it’s wearing me down and I _never_ thought I’d say that, Danny,” Steve says, rubbing at his eyes.

Danny looks at him wide-eyed, scared. “Y-you want to leave? You just said barely three weeks ago you’d never –“

“I don’t want to leave,” Steve says softly. “I’m just tired and I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Danny says, gripping the edge of the garage counter, white-knuckled, scraping his teeth across his bottom lip. He looks worried and hesitant all at once and Steve thinks it’s a lot of emotion between the two of them – a hell of a lot of emotion that they haven’t showed in a long time.

“I’m not leaving,” Steve insists.

“I just –“ Danny breaks off, looking away from him, “I don’t know what you want from me,” he whispers, and Steve has to bite his tongue to keep from saying all the things he really wants, from saying, _I want the old you. I need the old you. I need us back._

“Nothing,” Steve finally murmurs, leaning back against the counter. “I want – nothing, Danno.” He closes his eyes so tight starbursts shoot across his eyelids and when he opens them again, the moon is highlighting the tears shining in Danny’s eyes. Danny moves forward slowly, ever so slow until he reaches Steve, presses up against his chest tight. He rubs his nose against Steve’s tee and Steve’s not really sure what to do for all of two seconds – they haven’t embraced when Danny was in his right mind in forever – but he finally winds his arms around Danny’s middle and Danny shuffles even closer, if possible.

“ ‘m sorry,” he sniffles against Steve’s shirt, “So sorry.”

It’s not what Steve was looking for, but it’s a start.

\--  
The weeks pass, turning into months and everything seems to go back to normal for a while. Danny has a few bad days, but Steve notices that there are noticeably fewer than there were going for a while. Gracie comes over more and more often, to the point where she’s coming over every weekend and for a couple hours almost everyday after school. Finally one day Steve asks her about it and she shrugs, looking up at him and giving him a sad smile, “I just don’t think Mommy knows how to share all her love right,” she tells him quietly, as if she’s afraid Danny might hear.

“Gracie what are you saying?” Steve demands, stopping his stirring of the potatoes and turning around fully to look at her.

She shrugs again and avoids making eye contact. “Mommy… she has Jacob. And I love Jacob, but Mommy and Stan both like to spend a lot of time with him. I’d prefer to spend time with you and Danno – because…” she trails off, peering out into the living room where Danny is running the vacuum without a clue to their conversation, “Because you guys don’t have anyone else,” she finishes quietly.

“ _Grace,_ ” Steve says, appalled, “You know your mom loves you, right? Please tell me she hasn’t stopped – that she’s –“

Grace shrugs again, “She doesn’t mean to,” she says in a soft tone and goes back to her homework. Steve stands in the middle of the kitchen holding his wooden spoon, shocked, until Danny shuts off the vacuum and appears in the doorway.

“Babe?” he frowns, looking at him curiously, “Everything alright?”

From the table, Gracie shoots him a pleading look before once again going back to her times tables. Steve breathes out a heavy sigh and then puts on a smile for Danny.

“Everything is fine,” he tells him, “I was just… trying to think up a grocery list,” he shrugs.

“Ice cream,” Grace pipes up.

“We’ll see about that,” Steve says and it comes out sharper than he means it to. He mentally slaps himself, turning back around to stir the potatoes once again so he can avoid Danny’s searching gaze. There’s a few seconds of hesitant silence before Danny says,

“That’s a hell of a face for a grocery list, Steven,” in a tone that implies this conversation isn’t over.

“It’s – I just forgot stuff,” Steve shrugs, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s a bubble of anger boiling up in his stomach towards Rachel and Stan and he doesn’t know where to distribute it because his Grace does _not_ deserve this. And he wants to tell Danny so bad but he can’t do it in front of Grace and he can’t do it right now, anyways, because he’s pretty sure Danny would react by slamming out of the house and going straight to their mansion and causing destruction.

They eat dinner in relative silence and then it’s time to take Grace back to Rachel’s. “I’ll take her,” Steve says, grabbing the keys to the Camaro. Danny shrugs, picking up her backpack and setting it on her shoulders, tugging one pigtail in affection and bending down to kiss the top of her forehead.

“Danno loves you, Monkey,” he says and Steve feels a deep ache in his chest.

“Love you too, Danno,” Grace says, grinning up at him. “Can you pick me up from school tomorrow? If you don’t have a case?”

“What – what kinda question is that, huh?” Danny demands, hands on his hips in mockery. “Of course we can, you silly goose. Make sure you tell your mommy what’s going on, okay?”

“She won’t care,” Grace calls out as she runs down the porch steps and Steve suddenly realizes that Grace has been saying that for the last two months and.

And she really thinks that. She thinks that Rachel has forgotten her. Steve kisses Danny quick and follows Grace to the car, climbing in. On the drive over he brings up what he’s been thinking about all evening. “Grace, do you think… do you think if Danno and I had – if you’d had a little sister that we’d have forgotten you?” He asks it hesitantly, unsure and with a sick feeling in his stomach.

Grace looks over at him with wide eyes, shaking her head. “No!” She says adamantly. “Dad, you said from that start that just ‘cause you were gonna try didn’t mean that I was gonna get pushed back, remember? And when - before she was born you spent a lot of time with me, planning everything,” she says it quietly, like she’s afraid to talk about it.

Steve remembers the hours spent with Grace on their weekends, planning the colors for Ellie’s nursery, how Grace had painstakingly decided on butterflies that should glow in the dark for comfort, the hours spent picking out perfect, antique, classy furniture that Grace had wanted a say in, as well. Steve remembers the way she’d helped pick out baby clothes, the way she’d squealed over all the adorable little dressed and skirts they’d found while out shopping.

They hadn’t wanted her to feel left out, so they’d gone to extra lengths to make sure she was included. She’d even had a hand in picking out Ellie’s name.

“Mommy,” Grace takes a breath, “I don’t think Mommy means to,” she says softly, “I think she just gets caught up in Jacob. He’s really busy, y’know? Like boys are,” she wrinkles her nose, “And Step-Stan is really happy to have a son. He still – buys things for me,” she looks out the window at that, like she knows that Step-Stan has always been trying to buy her love for him, even at ten years old. Steve’s always known she was wise. “They just… have a lot less time for me. And now Mommy is talking about going back to work. She doesn’t mind – if I spend more time with you – do you guys?” Grace’s question has hitched her voice and Steve looks over, puts a hand on her shoulder soothingly.

“Grace, you know we want you with us as much as possible. I just think that this is something that needs to be addressed, sweetheart. Something that Danno and your Mommy should talk about.”

“Danno will be mad,” Grace says quietly. Steve pulls up to the gates and enters the code swiftly, pulling around the driveway before responding.

“You,” he says, kissing her forehead as she unbuckles and leans over for a hug, “Let me deal with Danno, okay? Get some sleep, got it? I’ll see you tomorrow, Gracie.”

“Love you, Daddy,” she says, and shuts the door. Steve watches her go through the door and it’s the first time he notices that Rachel isn’t at the front door, watching like a hawk to make sure Grace is back _on time,_ right on the dot.

Steve goes back home where Danny is cleaning up the kitchen, humming tunelessly under his breath. He wraps his arms around him and kisses the side of his head and Danny laughs. “What’s gotten into you, huh?” he asks, swatting him lightly with the dish towel.

Steve shrugs, kissing him again before pulling away and sitting on a kitchen chair, watching Danny finish up the kitchen. “I think – Grace told me something tonight,” he says slowly, unsure of how to approach the subject.

Danny turns around, eyebrow arched, “Is that what was with the Grocery Shopping Face?” he asks, licking his lips. Steve nods. “Okay,” he says, clapping his hands together, “Okay, bring it on. What’d she tell you, babe?” he asks, taking a seat across from Danny.

“Rachel and Stan are not – they’re not… giving her a lot of attention lately,” Steve says, not quite sure of his wording.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Danny frowns, “Like Stan’s stopped buying her bunnies?”

“No,” Steve sighs, “Like Rachel’s stopped – have you not noticed how much time she’s spending here? I know that Grace is older and she can voice her opinions and Rachel probably has a harder time turning that down but – but she can still say no, right Danno? She probably would’ve before – before… Jacob,” Steve says uneasily and Danny’s eyes widen, everything clicking into place.

“Are you saying our daughter is being put in last place?” he asks lowly. Steve’s stomach flips a little – as it always does – when Danny refers to Grace as _their_ daughter, but he nods slowly anyways. Danny’s eyes narrow then and he stands up. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shouts, slamming his fist on the table and Steve fights not to flinch or worse – flee the kitchen.

“She – she _thinks_ she is,” Steve says, stuttering a little, “She says – she says that she doesn’t think Rachel is really aware of the fact that she’s doing it, Danno – I really don’t – please calm down…” Steve trails off because Danny has moved from pounding his fist on the table to tossing clean dishes back in the dishwater and beginning to rewash them rather vigorously.

“She’s important,” Danny’s voice sounds a little broken and Steve stands up, walks over to him and rubs a soothing hand across his lower back, “The fact that – that anyone could put one little girl on a back burner for another little kid is – it’s gross and wrong,” he slams a piece of Tupperware into the rinse side of the sink, continuing, “We never – I never – right?” he breaks off, turning his head up towards Steve unsurely.

Steve shakes his head, “I asked her, in the car,” he tells Danny, still rubbing his hand across Danny’s back, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck lightly, “She said she _never_ felt that way, Danno. It’s just – like Gracie said – I don’t think Rachel has even noticed it. I think we just, need to talk to everyone. She was really nervous about me telling you.”

Danny snaps his head up again, looking anxiously at Steve, “She didn’t want to tell anyone?”

“I kind of just, caught on,” Steve shrugs, “She kept saying things – about Rachel not caring and stuff. That’s not like Rachel and I just – y’know…” Danny’s shoulders droop and he leans back against Steve heavily, like he needs the support to keep standing. He turns the water off and slowly turns around to wrap his arms around Steve.

“I should’ve noticed,” he mumbles into Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s hand automatically comes up to run through Danny’s hair, comforting and welcoming the conversation, encouraging Danny. “I should’ve – that’s bad, right? What if she thinks _I_ don’t care, Steven?” He looks up, mortified. Steve shakes his head adamantly.

“Danny, she knows we care, that’s why she’s been coming here. She said – she said she thinks we need her more here, anyways. Because of –“ Steve breaks off, shrugging again. Danny sighs again and thumps his head against Steve’s chest.

“I’m tired,” he mutters, “Can we go to bed? I’ll just – deal with this tomorrow.” Steve nods and leads Danny up the stairs quietly before coming back down and shutting all the lights off, activating the alarm system and then returning to the bedroom, climbing in next to Danny and immediately wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s frame. Danny leans into the touch and lets out another sigh, but this time it sounds more like a breath of relief instead.

“I don’t want to mess up,” he confesses into the dark room, “With Grace. She’s – she’s just. I don’t want to mess up,” he finishes, like he can’t find the right words, and Steve holds him tighter.

“We won’t,” he says assuredly, “We absolutely won’t.”

In the morning Steve wakes up to an empty bed which is not unusual, but certainly rare. He fumbles down the steps, following the shouts with a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. He really hadn’t wanted to deal with this before coffee and maybe breakfast and a swim. “Maybe I’ll just call _my_ lawyers, how’s that Rachel, huh? – how _dare_ you? No, no, no, don’t you dare, you know what, don’t even go there! Absolutely not, don’t you even –“ Steve appears in the kitchen to find Danny pacing back and forth, hands cutting figures through the air as he shouts into the phone.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut once briefly as he fights not to groan out loud and then heads straight towards the coffee maker, where coffee is already made, thankfully. It looks as though Danny had gotten started on making coffee, started on his day, but couldn’t wait any longer before dealing with the day’s issues. “ – No, I suggested we have a _nice, cordial_ dinner to discuss things and you immediately went on the defense, Rachel,” Danny is snarling into the phone, “Because our daughter brought some things to my husband’s attention, which he then brought to my attention. I thought it would be _best_ to discuss it. Not to yell about it into the phone like fucking banshees,” he crosses his eyes as though he’s trying to glare at the phone and Steve has to fight not to snort laughter.

He makes his coffee the way he likes it and carries it to the kitchen table, halfheartedly blowing on it as he does, avoiding Danny’s pacing on his way. Danny swerves over anyways and his eyes go a little crossed as Rachel obviously spits something into the phone, his mouth opening and closing, searching for something to say. Finally he pulls the phone away from his ear and gapes at it for a moment before pressing the end button rather viciously. Steve winces and tries not to rub at his temples already. “I thought,” he says instead, waiting until he has Danny’s attention, “We were going to wait until later today to call Rachel _together_ and discuss this, Danny,” he says quietly.

Danny turns his glare to him then, voice snide, “Oh so what, you’re siding with her?”

“I’m not siding with her, Daniel,” Steve snaps back, losing his temper too quickly and he could kick himself in the ass for it, “I just think we could’ve waited until we picked Gracie up from school, talked some more with her and then dropped her off, asked to come in and discuss it quietly with Rachel. Not dropped it like a fucking bomb on her, is all.”

“Because she should just go through her day not knowing?” Danny asks, eyes hard and angry.

“ _Because_ this needs to be discussed rationally. Gracie has been spending way too much time with us for it to be snatched away because Rachel suddenly decides she wants to reinstate every-other-weekend-visits.”

Danny falters then, hesitating and Steve knows he’s got him here. He bites his lip and sighs, sitting down hard on the chair across from Steve. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “Could you – will you –“ he breaks off, holding the phone out to Steve and Steve takes it from him, smiling gently.

“I’ll be back inside when I’m done,” Steve says, standing up and kissing Danny’s forehead. He quickly dials Rachel’s number and waits for her to pick up.

“Danny,” she answers and sounds almost exhausted instead of angry, “I really don’t want to fight anymore, if that’s alright –“

“It’s not Danny,” Steve interrupts gently and there’s a thirty second pause before Rachel responds. She bursts into tears then, instead and Steve sighs. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs and she sniffles loudly into the phone.

“No, _I’m_ sorry!” she says, sobbing and Steve thinks he hears he rummaging around for a tissue. He can hear Jacob playing quietly with his toys in the background. “I lost my temper – you know how it is,” and Steve can picture Rachel waving her hand in what most people would think was a nonchalant gesture but he knows means, _Danny and I can’t really find our medium worth our lives, can we now?_ because Danny does the exact same gesture sometimes after he’s gotten off the phone with Rachel and Steve sometimes wonders who took the gesture from whom.

“It’s fine, seriously Rach,” Steve soothes, switching the phone from one ear to the other and gazing out at the ocean. He knows Danny is watching him through the sliding glass doors, can feel his gaze on his back, tickling his skin; waiting, just waiting like he always does – so impatient for Steve to finish. “Listen I just – I was thinking maybe we could do dinner?” He trails off, hoping Rachel with agree without much hesitation. Hesitation means she’s still too upset with Danny to even think about dinner and Steve will have to do much more damage control.

She sniffles one more time and then says into the phone, muffled, “Jacob – no – oh, Steven, I don’t know,” sighing, “I just – yes, of course, we’ll have to, won’t we? I’ll make reservations at the usual restaurant? 8 o’clock, alright? You’re still picking up Gracie, yes?” She sounds so frazzled that Steve feels sympathy for her and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before responding,

“Of course, Rach,” he breathes out, and then hangs up the phone. He turns around and nods to Danny before setting his phone down on the lanai table and taking off at a sprint towards the ocean.

Steve swims long and hard, thinking about everything and nothing for a while before he comes back inside. Danny is already dressed and showered for the day, staring down blankly at the newspaper. He looks up when Steve walks into the kitchen and nods towards Steve’s waiting cup of orange juice and toast, his usual breakfast before work. He seems to take a long, thoughtful deep breath before speaking again. “I shouldn’t have called her right away,” he admits in a softer voice, the voice he uses when he’s apologizing which – Steve tries not to think about how much they apologize to one another lately because it stings a little.

Steve nods his head once, sharply in acknowledgment while he swallows down his orange juice. Once he’s finished, he makes eye contact with Danny and says, “We’re on for eight tonight, okay? I’m gonna shower and then we’ll go.” He stops though, on his way out, next to Danny and looks down, kisses his forehead, before continuing his journey upstairs.

He tells himself they’ll be okay and tries not to think about how often he tells himself that. Then he tries not to think about all the things he pushes out of his mind these days.

\--  
They reach the restaurant with Grace before Rachel, sitting down and placing their napkins in their laps before staring at one another in complete silence. Grace is somewhat nervous, Steve can tell by the way her foot keeps tapping on the floor; Danny is determined, Steve can tell by the hard glint in his eyes and the determined set in his face. He doesn’t want this whole thing to blow up in their faces so he knows he’s playing the buffer as usual, and prepares himself.

“Gracie, you want water?” he asks in his most soothing, least patronizing voice – because he knows Grace hates that more than anything in the world – and Grace looks up at him with somber eyes and nods her head shyly. The waiter pours her a glass before pouring both Steve and Danny one and then disappearing as swiftly as he came. Grimly, Steve thinks that Rachel has always chosen classily.

The very woman in question appears, heels clicking as she crosses the restaurant towards their table. She smiles at Steve as he stands, kissing him on the cheek. “Steven,” she greets him and he pulls out her chair. Steve shoots Danny a warning look and Danny puts on a smile.

“Rachel,” Steve says, “how are you?”

“Quite well under the circumstances,” she shrugs and leans over and kisses and hugs Grace. “Gracie, how are you sweetheart?”

“Good, mommy,” she says, voice muffled in Rachel’s dress. Steve suppresses a smile as he sits back down. When Rachel pulls away she turns to Danny and her own smile fades somewhat.

“Daniel,” she says flatly.

“Rachel,” he says, tone somewhat scathing and Steve reaches a foot out and kicks him gently. Danny bites his lip and sighs. “Look, okay, I’m sorry about – this morning,” he waves a hand in what he must think is the general vicinity of this morning’s conversation, “I was a little bit upset and I don’t exactly think before I speak – you know that. I really do apologize.”

The tension in Rachel’s shoulders relax a little bit and she offers him a much kinder smile, “Alright,” she says, still stiff British, “I apologize, as well, Daniel.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “What we need to do his talk about the little lady who caused tonight’s family dinner here, huh?” he says, flicking his gaze over to Grace, who is almost guiltily tracing patterns into her water glass.

“Monkey,” Danny says, all soft tones and soothing attitude, reaching out and placing a hand over hers, “What’s going on, baby?”

Gracie bites her lip and looks up, tear-filled eyes glancing at all of them, “It’s not Mommy’s fault!” She says, “She has Jacob now and Jacob takes up a lot of time, Danno! Don’t be angry with her.”

Danny’s shaking his head before she’s even finished, gripping her hand even tighter, “Monkey, Mommy has time for you – right?” He glances up at Rachel.

Rachel is nodding frantically, reaching over and wrapping her arms around Grace, holding on tight. “Grace, how could you even think that, darling? You’ve just been asking to spend so much time with your father and Steve and I thought that under the circumstances, it wouldn’t be a terrible idea.”

“Under the circumstances?” Danny asks blankly. “What circumstances?” Rachel breaks off and looks up, staring at him somewhat confusedly.

“Well – “ she breaks off again, glancing at Steve who is thinking quickly on how to defuse the situation before it even gets started. Because a defensive Danny in a public place isn’t exactly a good thing, as everyone well knows. “Well, Danny, I just thought – Grace has always been rather good at comforting you, is all,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip nervously.

Grace interrupts before Steve can, “I _do,_ want to be at Danno and Dad’s house,” she says, glancing at all of them. Rachel pulls away.

“Grace darling, what are you saying?” She asks in nearly the exact same blank tone that Danny used.

“I mean,” Grace hesitates, “I’d like to keep doing what I’m doing _now_ Mommy. Going everyday after school, when I can. And every weekend. Please?” She turns her brown eyes up on Rachel and Rachel blinks at her.

“What – I – you just thought I’d forgotten about you!” Rachel exclaims.

Grace shakes her head, “I didn’t say you forgot about me,” she explains in a patient tone, “I said that I thought you only had time for Jacob and it was okay, because Danno and Dad need me more right now, anyways. But Mommy, I know you love me. You always love me, just like Danno always loves me. Just like Dad always loves me,” she breaks off, looking over at Steve as if trying to gain the confidence to carry on. “Please,” she whispers, gripping Rachel’s hand, “I really like this, Mommy.”

Rachel swallows, staring down at the tiny hand holding hers before she nods carefully. “I – yes,” she murmurs, “I can’t exactly say no to that, can I?” She asks no one in particular, laughing a little. Grace beams, leaning over to hug her tightly before pulling away.

“I have to go to the restroom,” she announces. Steve glances over and notices that it’s right within viewing distance, that it’s one-person only and he can watch her walk over and enter and exit and nods, pointing it out.

“Come right back,” he says, and she nods, squeezing his bicep in a comforting manner before making her way towards the restroom.

Rachel takes a sip of her water as Steve watches Grace lock the door behind her and coughs lightly to catch his attention. Both Rachel and Danny are smiling amusedly at him and a hot flush crawls up his neck as he shrugs. “You’re very, very good with her,” Rachel says, sighing. “Both of you. I – I never imagined, in my best dreams that Grace would… get the best on both sides, I suppose is the best way to say it,” she muses, then she turns serious as she notices both men growing uncomfortable at her praises.

“I clearly tossed things up a bit here,” she says, shaking her head. “My intention was never for Grace to feel neglected by Stan and I, for her to feel as though we’ve chosen one child over the other – that’s…” she trails off, shuddering, “That’s _not_ what I wanted, Danny,” she says, looking at him, and Danny nods, staring down at the table. “Grace just went on and on about going over to _Danno and Dad’s_ house after school and on the weekends and well – she’s old enough, isn’t she? To make some decisions on her own now. And Jacob is a bit of a handful, so I relented, allowed her to. And I noticed that –“ she breaks off, hesitating.

“You noticed what?” Danny asks quietly, eyes still on the table.

“I noticed that it had a calming influence on the both of you,” Rachel shrugs, “Grace is like that – we both know that, don’t we? But for you two to perhaps have a routine that involved her – maybe revolved around her… it seemed to steady you somewhat. And keep you… here, Daniel,” Rachel murmurs the last part and Steve closes his eyes tight for a brief moment before he opens them again.

Danny is quiet for a long moment before he replies, “Grace is like that,” almost thoughtfully. When Steve glances at Rachel, she’s smiling again, nodding.

“I’ll have the lawyer draw up some papers,” she says, “To finalize this, yes? So that you two won’t think I’ll just – snatch it away.”

“We don’t,” Steve says hurriedly as Grace opens the bathroom door and starts making her way back towards the table. “Think that you’d do that, I mean,” he adds.

Rachel smiles again, patting his arm before taking a sip of her water, “Yes well, nevertheless, it’s always better to have something documented for the sake of everyone involved, I suppose.”

Dinner goes on then, peaceful and with a low hum of conversation. Steve thinks it’s all okay, really.

\--  
Steve’s pretty sure he’s dreaming, but that doesn’t stop the suffocating feeling. The feeling of his throat closing up and his eyes fogging with tears – the feeling he hates more than anything in the world, like he can’t _breathe_ and may never breathe again. He’s pretty sure he’s dreaming but that doesn’t stop the feeling of drop-dead fear in his stomach, ten thousand pounds of nauseous fear filling and churning around in his gut. He’s pretty sure he’s dreaming but that doesn’t stop him from reliving it over again anyways.

In his dream – because he _refuses_ to believe that God would fuck with him and make this reality all over again – he’s in the hospital delivery room, staring down at Ellie. His memories are pretty good – he’s always had decent photographic memory – and he stares down at her sleepy blue eyes, her fluff of blonde hair on the top of her head – he’s grinning at the fact that his _daughter_ was born with blonde hair, perfect, lovely blonde hair. He’s counting her fingers and toes, ten of each, five on each hand and foot. They’re tiny and delicate, just this side of chubby. Danny himself is fluttering around the room making sure everything is set up just right.

Selena, their surrogate is sleeping soundly. At that precise moment, the doctor walks in grim-faced and hollow eyed, a nurse following him. Steve knows something is wrong, instinctively grips Ellie tighter in his arms, not too tight that she’ll awaken, but tight enough that he feels she’s safe. Danny must feel it too, because the smile fades from his face and he wakes Selena up quietly. “I’m sorry,” the doctor says softly, “The test results only just came back – it’s very severe –“ he pulls out charts then, begins explaining things, but there’s a rushing sound in Steve’s ears and he stares down at Ellie – at his beautiful, perfect daughter, and he can’t make any sense of how this happened.

She’s supposed to be _perfect._

Distantly, he’s aware of Selena’s sobbing, her repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, it has to be, I’m sorry Danny!”

Steve lets out a shuddering gasp as Ellie shifts in his arms and suddenly it’s quiet; he’s aware of all eyes on him, Selena’s sniffles still echoing around the room. The doctor eyes him as though he’s expecting Steve to go off in a rage at any moment, demand he retract his statement immediately. But Steve is unfeeling, shocked, and something in the back of his head says he is _unsurprised._ Something in the back of his head screams _see Steve? You can’t have nice things, Steve. You were so silly, Steve._

There’s silence, so much silence, and Steve is choking on it, still gripping Ellie tight. Still looking down at her, at her beautiful, peaceful little face and he voices the only question he has. “H-how long?” He hates his voice because it sounds weak, broken, like an old man’s voice.

The doctor is quiet for thirty more seconds before he says very softly, so softly Steve has to strain to hear him over the rushing in his ears, “I give her three days,” he murmurs, “I’m very sorry,” he apologizes like they’ve already lost her, “So sorry.” And he exits the room.

The rushing in Steve’s ears turns to roaring.

Danny’s the one the pulls him out of his dream. He comes awake gasping and shuddering, fighting not to let his memories rush to the front of his mind. Danny sits at the edge of the bed, knowing well enough not to touch Steve right away after a particularly bad dream. Steve’s a thrasher, they both learned, flings out at the lightest touch when he’s still on edge from a nightmare; he likes to come back into himself carefully. It used to be Danny liked to be comforted after his nightmares but these days he seems to be taking a page out of Steve’s book.

Danny eyes him warily, watching Steve’s reactions carefully as he sits up slowly, regaining his breath and the feeling of being in the present slowly. “Okay, babe?” Danny finally asks softly and Steve’s eyes snap over to him.

He’s not okay – his skin is feeling to itchy for his liking, he feels like he could crawl out of it at any moment, and he’s on the edge, right at the brink, about to lose control and maybe cry or scream; he’s not sure which one at the moment. Another shudder rips through his body and he hates himself a little for it before he nods slowly. “I – yes,” he swallows, blinking.

Danny crawls over the sheets and wraps his arms around him gently, kissing his shoulder. “You sure,” he asks, before leaning in and kissing his neck, too. “You don’t seem back to yourself yet, Steve. You um – you want to talk about it?”

Steve shakes his head quickly, lying back down and leaning further into Danny’s arms. If there’s one thing he’s learned about his nightmares – his recent ones – it’s that Danny will make the offer but he’s never _really_ going to want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to talk about it during the day, how can he want to talk about it in the middle of the night after Steve has dreamt it up yet again?

Steve has learned to take comfort where he can get it though, where Danny _will_ offer it, and that is in Danny’s arms, wrapped up tight, Danny kissing his shoulder blades every now and again to offer reassurance – his silent prayer of _everything is okay, you’re okay, we’re here now, it’s okay._ So he leans in, head on the pillow, Danny’s breath playing out across his neck. He breathes deep and seeks out Danny’s hands, tangles his own fingers with Danny’s and just.

Holds on.

\--  
Steve thinks it had to happen sometime, really. So why not happen in Whole Foods, while he’s grocery shopping with Gracie, about to partake in their usual Grocery-Shopping Tradition, hand poised over the chocolate milk pint when he hears his name called out in surprise. Grace is the one who says it first. “Selena?” But she says it like a question, almost, like she, too, is surprised.

Selena’s eyes flicker down to Grace, her lips curl up in an almost questionable smile for half a second, before they flicker back to Steve’s face. “Steve,” she says again, and Steve takes his hand down from the milk shelf, turns to face her properly.

“Um,” he says eloquently.

“How are you?” She asks warmly, eyes bright, and Steve sort of hates her a little. Beside him, Grace shifts almost imperceptibly so she’s standing in front of him, like she can shield him from the bad people in the world. Steve has to blink at the irony of that. Like _Gracie_ can shield _him_ from the world, and he almost wants to choke on his hatred of himself.

“We’re good,” Gracie says, smiling up at her angelically, “We’re really good, Selena. How are you?” Selena’s glance once again flickers down to Grace and her smile fades a little.

“I’m… good,” she says, trailing off, unsure. There’s thirty seconds of completely uncomfortable, awkward silence, before Selena shifts and grips her cart tightly, stepping forward. “It was – it was nice to see you, Steve, Grace. I – I should go,” she nods.

Steve nods back, a little stunned and Grace gives her a little half-wave, watching her go. Once she’s out of sight, Grace looks up at him. “Dad?” She asks softly.

Steve snaps out of his little trance and looks down at her, “I’m fine,” he says, brushing strands of hair out of her face, “Really, I’m fine Gracie.” She gives him a smile.

“I was just going to ask if you’re getting the chocolate milk? I’ve got the candy,” she holds up two snack-sized boxes and Steve glances down and grins.

“Goobers, huh?” he grins.

“They had them in the dollar section this time!” She says excitedly. “It’s better than the Hershey bars we had for the last _three_ times. I hate when all they have are plain chocolate bars,” she wrinkles her nose as Steve places the chocolate milk cartons in the cart and he grins down at her, poking her in the shoulder.

“It’s a real tragedy that you get _candy_ ,” he says in an exaggerated tone. She giggles and skips ahead to the checkout counter.

Once they’re in the car, eating their candy and drinking their chocolate milk, she brings it up, just like Steve knew she would. “It’s okay to be sad still,” she says quietly, “Even though Selena isn’t, Dad.” She says it softly.

“Yeah?” he asks, chewing on his mouthful of chocolate-covered peanuts thoughtfully.

“Ellie wasn’t ever really Selena’s was she?” Grace shrugs, “She didn’t have as much to lose as we did, Dad. It was easier for her to move on.”

Steve thinks about that as they pull into the driveway and Danny comes out to help them with the bags. He notices the chocolate smudge on Grace’s cheek and wipes it away with a roll of his eyes. “Every time I send you two to the grocery store!” he rants, waving a hand around as they set bags on the counter, “You get candy! I thought you were supposed to be an adult!” He accuses Steve, grinning and winking as Grace giggles.

“I never eat candy,” Steve says mildly and Grace bursts into full out laughter now, peals of it as she shrieks through the house, Steve chasing after her for tattle-telling on him. It’s a silent agreement between the two of them not to mention Selena to Danny, especially when the day is so pleasant.

\--  
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Steve says stoically, staring blankly at the wall behind the grey haired woman. The woman smiles kindly, leaning forward.

“Anything,” she says. Her voice is soft, encouraging, and Steve sort of wants to rip through a couple _thousand_ walls. He wants to tear down the building. He wants to beat someone up, he wants to shoot something, he wants to _burn something down._ It doesn’t even matter what he does – he just needs to feel something moving underneath his hands. Skin, fire, plaster, brick, pavement; he doesn’t care, he doesn’t mind – he just _wants._

Steve says, “I don’t have anything to say,” and the woman leans even closer, holding her clipboard to her chest, a frown threatening to overtake her smile just a little. Steve thinks he might get out of this still. But then she sits back and smiles just a little more, relaxing.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out, right?” she muses, stretching her arms out over the top of her chair like maybe she has all the time in the world, and Steve’s fingers twitch a little. “Like if you just sit here and say you’re fine, that you don’t have anything to say, I’ll just mark you down for okay, Commander McGarrett? That I’ll just say you’re good to go?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, blinks at her.

She stops smiling. “Commander McGarrett, you lost a _child._ Your baby. How are you coping with that?” She leans forward again.

Steve shrugs, “I wake up, I go about my day, and I go to sleep. In the morning I do it all over again,” he says. She frowns for real this time.

“You don’t think about her?”

“Of course I think about her,” Steve says evenly. “There are not many hours that go by that I don’t think about her. But part of dealing with death is moving forward. You forget,” he says, offering his own twisted sort of grin, because his face hasn’t worked quite right for the last month, not since Ellie died, not since he and Danny watched her take her last breath, not since the doctor told them she wouldn’t make it three days, “I’ve been down this road before. Twice,” he adds the last part on as an afterthought.

She stares at him thoughtfully for a long moment before she sits back once again and then nods, writing something down on her clipboard. After five minutes of silence, she says, “Don’t let yourself be afraid to feel, Commander McGarrett. It’s alright to grieve. She was your daughter, after all.” And hands him the papers to release him back to work. Steve holds them precariously, like the might burst into flames at any moment as he walks out into the burning-bright sunlight, the weight of her words weighing on his shoulders.

When he gets home, the door is ajar and he instinctively goes for his sidearm, but it isn’t there. Instead, he tenses up and pushes the door open carefully. Once he steps inside, he surveys a terrible, disastrous mess. There are blankets and curtains everywhere, the lamps are overturned, picture frames are knocked over, cushions and throw pillows strewn across the room and then he hears it. Hears _him._ He looks around and finds him in the kitchen, where he’s busy sliding everything on the counter towards the end.

“Danny,” Steve says quietly. Just one word, just his name, soft and firm. Danny looks up; eyes red, face tear streaked. He pauses in sliding the dishes and the food off the counter, stares at Steve like he’s not quite sure who he is for a moment.

“I want her back,” he says, voice broken, ragged with tears, “I want her back, Steve,” he says again, and then he takes his arm and sweeps it across the mess, sending it sprawling across the floor, glasses and plates shattering, noise echoing loudly through the kitchen. “I want her back,” he says, emphasizing each word, each syllable and Steve’s heart sinks. “I WANT HER BACK!” He screams, reaching up and tearing at his hair, stomping his foot, “I WANT HER BACK, STEVE. I. WANT. HER. BACK. BRING. HER. BACK. I want her back. Bring her back. I want her back! Bring her back! I want her back! Bring her back!” He’s screaming and stomping his feet, moving in circles around the kitchen and tearing a little at his hair and Steve has no idea what to do, what to say, where to move or when because all Danny keeps repeating is that he wants her back, to bring her back.

And Steve remembers that once upon a time, when he first told Danny he loved him, he promised him he’d give him whatever he wanted in the world, whatever he needed.

Danny screams, “I need her back! Bring her back! I want her back!” He stomps in circles and claws at his arms. He’s almost like an addict needing a drug; Steve thinks faintly as he slides down the wall, sinking to his knees.

Steve can’t give him this. He promised he’d give Danny whatever he wanted in the world and he can’t give him this.

“Bring her back! I want her back! Bring her back! I want her back! Bring her back!”

Steve cries for the first time in a month, for the first time since the day they lost Ellie – just three days and two hours old, Danny’s screams in the background.

\--  
Danny’s good days are sometimes the best days, Steve thinks hazily, awaking to Danny’s mouth on his skin, Danny’s legs tangled with his, Danny’s fingers running over his biceps. He mouths over Steve’s bellybutton and then moves lower, just perfect and then Steve is sighing, tangling his fingers in Danny’s hair and moaning just a little as Danny sucks just right, runs his tongue over the head of Steve’s cock and then goes deeper. “Danny,” Steve breathes, thrusting his hips up a little. Danny locks his hands on Steve’s thighs so he can’t move too much, can’t choke him, and continues, humming around Steve’s dick.

Steve thinks this is the best way to wake up, perfect in every sense of the way. It means it’s a good Danny day, it means sex, it means feeling Danny’s entire body wrapped around him.

Steve thinks, it doesn’t happen much anymore. It hasn’t happened much, at all. It used to happen a lot, back before. It used to happen most mornings, Danny’s mouth on Steve’s skin, waking him up just before the alarm so Steve could go for his swim. Steve slept deep then, now that he’s a civilian again and didn’t have to worry so much about rude awakenings, and waking up to Danny was the best way to wake up.

He tosses his head back on the pillow and tries not to think about the whimper he just let out, trying to move his hips up into Danny’s mouth more. “Gonna, Danny, gonna,” he mumbles, tugging lightly at Danny’s hair and Danny pulls away, stroking his dick, fast and sure until Steve arches up, moans and twists his fists into the bedsheets as he comes.

When he comes back from his high, Danny his kissing his way up his chest, towards his lips. Steve kisses him lazily, a tangle of tongues, and Danny smiles a little against his lips before sitting up. “Come on,” he says, pulling away, “Shower. Got work.” And he pulls away, heading towards the bathroom.

Steve thinks about how much Danny doesn’t need sex anymore, doesn’t need pleasure, and tries not to let it bother him. He tries not to think about how the only time Danny’s gotten off was that one time, when he was sort of angry, sort of upset, just wanted Steve to give him something.

Steve tries not to let it get to him.

It is a good day though, Steve notes as they get dressed, because Danny wears lighter colors. He makes the coffee and bitches about the traffic as the head to HQ and he smiles a little, even if he doesn’t smile the whole way – even if his eyes don’t twinkle like they used to. He calls Grace before school and he remembers all the important questions and promises to pick her up after school, cases pending of course. Steve doesn’t have to remind him to do any of it, he doesn’t have to remind him to button his shirt or turn the coffee maker off; he doesn’t have to remind him to lock the doors or to get out of the car when they get to HQ.

So yes, Steve counts it as a good day even if there are some flaws to it. There are probably always going to be flaws, he tries to remind himself. The therapist told him that from day one. He might never come back the whole way from this.

But Steve is in it for the long run.

\--  
He sits by his bed. He’s pretty drugged up, but apparently even through the drugs he can have nightmares, which Steve doesn’t think is fair and has yelled and screamed and then tried to talk calmly to the doctor about, but nothing is working. His arms are wrapped up where his nails dug in and Steve had to clip them as short as he possibly could when they finally got him to sleep. They were pretty short already, Steve thought; he has no idea how he could’ve done the damage he did, but apparently he can and he did. So now they’re bandaged tight, so he can’t get to them when he wakes up.

It’s a nervous tic, a stress tic, the doctor says, a way for him to distribute his sadness right now. He’s not sure where to put all of his emotions, so he’s just… finding ways.

Steve has ways, too, he thinks bitterly. Steve’s way is to put his fist through a wall and he desperately wants to right now because he’s so fucking pissed off at the world surrounding them.

 _“I want her back. Bring her back. I want her back. Bring her back.”_

It went on for an hour, Steve curled up on the floor, trying to cover his ears to block out the noise, Danny stomping around the kitchen in circles, screaming and clawing and tearing and screaming some more.

Chin showed up, that’s what happened, Steve remembers. He took one look at the living room and dashed for the kitchen, for the screaming and stared wide eyed at the scene in front of him, shocked and unsure of what to do for a split second. Then he grabbed Danny, but Danny only thrashed in his arms, screaming louder – so loudly that Steve didn’t even have a _shot_ of blocking it out with his palms. “BRING HER BACK!” He screamed, thrashing and trying desperately to escape Chin’s grip, “BRING HER BACK! BRING HER BACK OR I’LL HATE YOU FOREVER! I HATE YOU ANYWAYS! BRING HER BACK! I WANT HER BACK!”

“Danny, buddy,” Chin had tried, his voice just as calming and wise as always, “Come on, you’ve got to calm down.”

Steve closed his eyes as Danny kept screaming and more tears slipped past his eyelashes, down his cheeks. He rocked back and forth a little as Danny screamed his hatred for Steve, how much he wanted Ellie back, how much he _needed_ her back. “You promised!” Danny shrieked and Steve’s eyes flew open. Danny panted a little, eyes wild with fury and hate and sadness. “You _promised me_ ,” he said, still thrashing in Chin’s arms. “Y-you said you’d g-give me whatever I needed, Steve!” he said, and he started shaking, started sobbing, but he was still screaming the same things.

Chin pulled out his phone and dialed 911, because he had no idea what else to do.

So Steve sits by his bed because he promised. He promised Danny he’d give him whatever he needed and that means help, too. That means love and care and help. Steve sits by his bed because he feels guilty because he can’t do it.

He can’t fucking bring her back and doesn’t that just sting worst of all?

\--  
“Hey,” Danny says, leaning against the bedroom doorjamb. Steve looks up from his laptop, smiles at Danny and finishes typing the last of his report before closing the lid. Danny’s arms are crossed, one leg crossed over the other. He’s barefoot in a pair of gym shorts, toes of one foot scratching at the opposite leg. Steve thinks it’s his best posture, because he looks so relaxed, so innocent and carefree.

“Hey,” Steve says. Danny shifts a little, like he’s scratching his shoulder against the doorjamb and then he offers a little smile. Steve frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Danny protests, holding his hands up, “I was just –“ he cuts off, looking unsure. Steve is confused.

“What?” he asks, almost worried now.

Danny inches inside the bedroom, towards him, towards the bed. “I was just… I just… you’re not too busy, are you?” Danny shrugs. “With paperwork?”

Steve snorts a little, “You still do most of it, Danno,” he says, smiling a little, and Danny smiles back, crawling onto the bed and towards Steve.

“I kind of just wanted to… lie here,” Danny sighs as he reaches Steve, pulling the laptop and files out of Steve’s lap and placing them on the bedside stand. Then he tugs and pulls until Steve is lying down and he can lie his head down on Steve’s chest. Steve thinks his heart might skip a few beats, but he doesn’t try to say anything for a while. “Just… to relax,” Danny murmurs as he pulls Steve’s tee up just a little to trace patterns into his bare skin.

Steve breathes out, tightens his grip on Danny.

“Okay,” he says, “We can do that.”

When Steve wakes up, for once Danny is still asleep, quite little snores slipping through his nose, fingers clutching Steve’s shirt lightly still. It’s only midnight which means Steve’s only taken a catnap of sorts. Neither of them have eaten anything yet, because they’re used to eating with Grace, but Grace was having dinner with Stan and Rachel tonight, Steve knows.

He shifts so he’s facing Danny, watching him sleep, and brushes the hair out of his eyes. Danny’s bedhead is the best, Steve thinks. It’s messy and filled with tiny curls, fans out around the pillow and brushes over his face. It’s full of body and perfect. It’s young and innocent, a look that Steve doesn’t see often on Danny.

Danny _sleeping_ is younger and more innocent, that same look that Steve never sees on him, but desperately wants to. Steve wants to see the years of pain and hurt that are etched into Danny’s face gone, just like they are now, smoothed away by the stages of REM sleep. Steve wants to never see them reappear. He brushes his fingers down past Danny’s cheek, along his collarbone, shoulder, down his bicep, and Danny twitches his nose in his sleep a little, nuzzling closer towards Steve. “Danno,” Steve murmurs, smiling a little. He brushes his nose across his forehead. “Danno, come on, babe, you need to wake up. You need to eat something before we go to sleep, babe.”

“Umph,” is the noise the comes out of Danny’s mouth before he burrows deeper into the blankets and Steve’s chest and arms, eyes still closed.

“Come on,” Steve pats his arm before pulling away. Danny falls into his pillow and snorts at him, curling up. “I’ll make eggs, something light to eat before bed, and then we’ll go right back to sleep, okay? Meet me downstairs, Danno,” Steve says, leaning over the mattress and poking him in the side. Danny finds enough energy in his half-awake state to flip him off.

Steve pads downstairs and is in the middle of making eggs when arms wrap around him and a cold nose nuzzles the back of his neck. “Mm,” he says, leaning back. Part of it feels incredibly surreal, like he can’t believe that Danny is being like this, so completely normal today, and the other part of it feels so right and good that Steve can’t seem to bring himself to think about anything else.

He kisses his shoulder blade and pulls away, taking a seat at the table. “Orange juice?” he asks, looking hopeful. Steve knows he’d prefer coffee, especially with eggs, but since they’re eating and going right back to bed he doesn’t want to risk the caffeine, so Steve pulls a glass down and pours him the juice, handing it to him. Danny offers him a grateful smile before sipping it while Steve finishes up the eggs and sets them on to plates, sitting down across from Danny.

“Dig in,” he tells him, and watches Danny carefully. Danny messes with his food and there’s a butterfly-feeling in Steve’s stomach, fluttering around – the one that tells him Danny’s mood has an ulterior motive, that he’s working his way up to saying something. He doesn’t approach it though, just eats quietly and watches Danny. Danny who picks at his eggs, eats some, but mostly pushes them around on his plate. It makes Steve not want to eat but he does anyways, hesitating while he chews, not sure whether or not to continue. Finally when his plate is empty but Danny’s is still mostly full, Danny looks up.

“Steve,” he says, swallows, and glances down at his plate again, “Steve I –“ he breaks off and looks away, out towards the lanai and beyond that, towards the ocean. “I want to get away,” he whispers, and Steve gets that rushing sound in his ears, his world starts spinning and his vision narrows. He’s not sure what to say and his fork clatters as it hits his plate.

“I – okay,” Steve says, swallowing loudly. He tries to catch his breath, nods and says again, “Okay,” says, “We can do this,” nodding again. He thinks he can talk to the governor, tell him they need time away, put Chin in charge for a while, maybe get some detectives from HPD to fill their empty spaces as backup for the few days or weeks they’re gone. He knows they have money saved have - _Steve_ has had money for years now, inheritances and money from the Navy, and now with his job and Danny’s combined, he’s never really had to dip into it much – aside from Ellie – so they can go wherever Danny wants to take them.

Danny averts his gaze again and Steve stops, hesitates before speaking again, “What, Danny?” He murmurs, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach again, “What?”

Danny doesn’t speak for a long moment and when he turns his head to face Steve, there are tears in his eyes, “I don’t know when I’ll want to come back,” he whispers, gripping the edge of the table tightly, “I - Steve,” he stutters, halting his sentence, breaking off and choking on a ragged breath, “I don’t know when I’ll want to come back and I don’t know if – if I’ll even _want_ to come back, Steve,” he finally says, squeezing his eyes shut so tight tears drip out under his lashes and slide down his cheeks, _drip drip_ down the onto the table.

Steve sits there staring at him, unsure of what to say now, unsure of how to react. How does he react to that? he wonders. Because what about Grace? What about their jobs? What about their house and what about – he chokes silently on his breath – what about _Ellie?_ They can’t leave her. Danny stares at him, waiting, wondering. Steve has a million questions running through his brain but the only thing he finally chokes out is, “Okay,” and Danny’s eyes widen, surprised and grateful and amazed and so, so wondrous that Steve wants to sink into the floor and jump up and run into Danny’s arms and hold him and caress him all at the same time – a million different emotions that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Eyes still wide, voice sounding a little breathless, Danny’s grip on the table loosens a little and he says, “Okay.” They sit like that, silent and staring at one another for a long time.

\--  
When Steve first decided he wanted Danny forever, he knew just the way he wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him underneath millions of stars, with candles and food and Grace sitting there, watching, with Italian food from the _one good Italian place on the island, Steve – don’t you forget that, okay?_ with promises that he’d never break and with words that he’d mean forever.

Steve had picked Grace up from school with special permission from Rachel, a knowing tone in Rachel’s voice when he’d called to ask her. When Grace gets in the car, she throws her arms around him in a hello-hug and then pulls away to buckle up. “Where’re we going, Uncle Steve?” She asks curiously as he starts driving.

“We have to pick up some things,” he says, and then glances over. “But first, I wanted to talk to you, Gracie.” She wrinkles her nose in that Danny-like way that suggests she’s wondering whether or not she’s going to enjoy the conversation and then nods for him to go on. “You know that Danno and I… we like each other a lot,” Steve says slowly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Gracie nods quick and fast; knowingly. She gestures in another Danny-like way for him to go on and Steve smiles briefly, “I want to ask Danno some things, tonight, Gracie,” Steve says glancing over again, stopping at a red light and Grace’s eyes widen, she looks over excitedly at him.

“Uncle Steve,” she breathes, “Uncle Steve, are you – do you mean - _Uncle Steve,_ ” she repeats, and she balls her hands up in little excited fists, pumping them into the air.

“I want you to be there,” he continues, grinning as the light turns green and he presses down on the gas pedal. “Tonight, when I ask him those things. Is that okay, Grace?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she says, squealing, “Uncle Steve, oh, Uncle Steve I’m so excited!”

“Me too, Gracie,” he says, “Me too.” He thinks things probably could go really well. He hopes that Danny will say yes to everything he asks.

He drives around town picking up everything he needs and when they’re done, he and Grace unload everything in the kitchen. He carries the newly purchased Tiki torches out into the sand and places them strategically where he wants them, Grace observing and sometimes critiquing where she thinks is necessary. Then he and Grace move the table from the lanai into the sand and place the chairs around it, next. After that he checks his watch, notices the time and tugs on Grace’s ponytail to catch her attention. “Come on,” he nods back towards the house, “You can put on a pretty dress from your closet while I shower, okay?” Grace nods excitedly and holds his hand, squeezing tightly now and again the entire walk back up to the house.

Steve showers quickly and puts on jeans and a good dress shirt – his usual formal wear. He’s buttoning his shirt up just as Grace comes banging through the door, her dress on, a brush in one hand and a flowered bow in the other. “Will you braid my hair?” she asks softly, the large flower rustling a little with her movements. Steve knows it’s a dahlia because dahlias are her favorite and he and Danny had searched everywhere for a fake dahlia bow they could clip into her hair when they did it for her. He remembers that she’d screamed with joy when she’d opened the bag and seen what was inside it.

“Of course,” he says, sitting down in the chair in the corner of the room, “Come here, kiddo.” She comes over and kneels between his legs and Steve starts brushing her long, smooth hair out immediately. He parts it into three and then starts braiding, sweeping it all onto her right side before tying it off. Then he settles the dahlia in her hair.

“Do I look pretty?” she asks, brown eyes looking up at him curiously, hopefully. Steve can’t help but grin, lean forward and knock his head lightly against hers.

“Pretty?” he asks, sounding incredulous, “You look gorgeous, Gracie. How about you run downstairs and look out for Danno, okay?” She jumps up then and nods before disappearing down the steps.

Steve walks into the bathroom and leans his hands tightly on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. “You can do this,” he breathes out to himself, “This is right and perfect and _you can do this,_ ” he says and he’s glaring at himself in the mirror when Grace screams up the steps.

“HE’S HERE, HE’S HERE, HE’S HERE HE’S – hi, Danno.”

Steve hears the door open and close and he shoots himself one more stern glare before he flicks the light off and heads towards the stares. “Monkey,” he hears as he pauses at the top of the steps. The voice sounds surprised and cheerful all at once, “What are you doing here? You look so pretty. What’s the occasion, baby?” Steve can tell Danny’s picked her up by the way there’s a tiny, hidden grunt at the end of the sentence, the one he always tries to hide so that he can deny Grace is getting older and it’s getting harder to pick her up.

“Uncle Steve came and got me,” he hears as he finally makes his way down the steps, “He – Uncle Steve!” She shouts, looking pleased as he comes into the living room. Danny looks over at him and stops short, looks at him once again.

“You –“ he starts, then stops and sniffs. “Is that – “ He narrows his eyes, “Do I smell what I think I smell? What’s going on, you two?” Steve grins his best grin and nods his head at Grace, who squirms in Danny’s arms until she lets him down. She tugs on his hand.

“Come on, Danno,” she tells him, guiding him out towards the ocean, “Come on!” Steve lets her lead him outside while he dishes the food out onto plates and gets it ready to take outside. When he brings it out, Danny is sitting out at the table, staring at everything in shock.

“What did you do?” he asks in a low voice, “What’s going on? Did you blow something up that I don’t know about? Is this your apology, Steven? Why does Gracie need to be here for it? Did you do something involving her, Steve?” he demands all in one breath, eyes wide and looking fearful and excited all at once. Across the table, against the crashing waves, Grace giggles, covering her mouth. Steve just grins.

“Danno,” he says, setting the pasta and bread down, “Calm down. Shut up and eat, okay?”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, okay? That doesn’t reassure me, Steven.” He flings a hand at him, but he starts shoveling pasta onto his plate anyways, hurriedly picking his fork up and starting to eat. Steve notices that even though he seems to enjoy his food, he also eats hurriedly, like he can’t wait to hear what Steve’s got to say. Grace also eats excitedly, giggling occasionally.

Steve himself nervously picks at his food, moving it around on his plate and taking a few bites here and there. When Danny finishes with a sweep of his napkin across his face and a not-too-discreet cough, Steve smiles. “What makes you think this dinner had a purpose, Danno?” he teases.

Danny’s eyes narrow and he folds his hands in front of him, leans forward and just waits. Grace eyes them both until Steve stands up, and Danny’s eyes follow his movements rapidly, nervously, “What are doing?” Steve doesn’t answer as he kneels down in the sand, “Steven,” he says, voice going choked, “Steven, get up, get up, _get up_ Steven – what are you doing?” He looks over at Grace, who has a huge grin on her face and then looks back at Steve, who takes his hand.

“Danno,” he says softly, “I want – I want to promise you things,” Steve clears his throat, looks up at him. Danny is looking around wildly, gaze flitting from the tiki torches to Grace and back to Steve before running the circuit all over again, “I think – I think you already know that I love you, but I need to make _sure,_ that you know,” he says, “And I want you to know that – I’ll never leave, I _promise_ I’ll never leave you, not unless that’s something you’d ever want. I promise that I’ll give you whatever you want in life – whatever makes you happy, for as long as you need it. I promise to make you and Grace as happy as I possibly can because –“ he breaks off and glances over at Grace, glances all around, at the ocean and the sand, at the impossibility of the situation that he’s in – he can’t _really believe he’s here,_ and he takes a deep breath before finishing, “Because I love you both, and you guys have already given me everything that I could ever need, okay and – and I just. Want this, Danny. I want you. Forever, for as long as you’ll have me, for –“ he’s cut off by Danny’s lips pressed against his, Danny’s arms wrapping against his neck.

Danny pulls away for a brief moment, “Yes,” he murmurs, eyes glazed over and distantly, Steve hears Grace’s overjoyed shriek in the background, “Yes, yes, yes, Steve, forever, for always, yes,” he says.

Steve knows they’re going to be amazing.

\--  
Steve’s dragged awake by a terrible sound and he sits straight up in bed, glancing wildly around for Danny. When he doesn’t find him, he jumps out of the bed and makes his way into the hallway. The noise is louder there and he realizes with the fluttering feeling rising in his stomach that it’s _Danny_ and he swallows fear down as he follows the noise to Ellie’s bedroom. The door is halfway shut and he pushes it open slowly. He’s not really prepared for what he sees when it finally swings the entire way open.

The room is a disaster, he thinks as he surveys it, shock settling through his system. The furniture has been thrown across the room, the stuffed animals – what ones haven’t been torn up – are mixed in with the furniture, and the pillows’ feathers are floating to the floor slowly like Steve thought they only did in movies. His breathing stops and he tries to find a way to make it start again as he takes in the damage, Danny standing in the middle of it, ragged, terrible sobs coming out of his mouth, horrible rage lighting his eyes, his breath coming out in pants and his hands curled up into fists.

Steve thinks about all the time they spent picking out this furniture, all the time they spent picking out this crib and this dressing table and this rocking chair; how Kono and Chin and Gracie and even Rachel bought some of those stuffed animals for Ellie – how everything in this room is _Ellie’s_ and Danny has gone and destroyed it and it makes it even harder for him to get his breathing back under control. “W-what did you do?” he chokes out, looking at Danny in horror, and Danny looks up at him, eyes still alight with rage.

“We can’t,” he says, “We can’t keep living like this and I _saw_ the way you looked at me, Steve, when I said I wanted to go away – we can’t go away, either. I did what I needed to do,” his voice trembles with barely repressed anger and Steve takes a step back.

“You destroyed it,” he says quietly, in disbelief, shaking his head, “How could you do that – _why_ would you do that?”

“Because we need to move on!” Danny cries, swinging his arms around, “This is not moving on, keeping this room like she’s just going to – to come _back_ Steve! She’s not going to come back, okay? Me, I’ve been grieving since day one, but you!” He stops for a minute and lets out a hollow laugh, “You just take care of me and you sit around and act like any minute someone is going to show up on our doorstep with this beautiful baby and say they were just joking, she’s not really dead, she’s perfectly fine, and _return_ her! It’s not going to happen, Steve,” he picks up the rocking chair and throws it at the wall and Steve watches as Danny shatters the rocking chair, the antique rocking chair they hunted for _weeks_ before they found it, lets his arms dangle by his side and turns around to face Steve again.

“We can’t keep living like this,” he says breathing hard, “We _cannot keep pretending,_ Steve. You cannot keep pretending that she’s just going to come back.”

“I’m not pretending she’s going to come back,” he says lowly, trying to keep his voice calm. He doesn’t like yelling, has only lost his cool a few times in the last year or so and has always regretted it, felt guilty afterwards.

“Yes you are!” Danny shouts, “Yes you are! You talk about maybe having a new baby, you talk about moving on, but you never persist; you – you stop the moment I tell you to shut up!” He closes his eyes tight and swipes a hand at his face, licks his lips. “How serious are you really about wanting another baby, Steve? How serious are you really about being okay, huh? Because it’s been – it’s been _months_ and I still can’t close my eyes without thinking about her little face, without thinking about her taking her _last breath_ and you WALK AROUND TALKING ABOUT NEW BABIES AND SAYING YOU’RE OKAY,” he screams, charging forward and hitting Steve in the chest, letting out another ragged sob, and pummeling his chest again.

Steve trembles, rage making itself known just underneath his skin and he clenches his fists tightly. “What do you want me to say, Danny?” he locks his jaw, staring straight ahead as Danny pulls away and looks up at him in disbelief, mouth parting in a little ‘o’ of shock at his reaction. Steve steps back and shakes his head, “When did you want me to throw my sadness in, when did you want me to say that it _tears me apart_ thinking about any of it, thinking about her? I can’t even bring up her fucking _name_ without you getting pissed off, Danny, so don’t go acting all high and mighty, like you’re better than me for grieving out in the open, or something, okay? Don’t fucking do it because it’s not true. None of that is true. The only thing any of this has done is tear us apart and you know it. I thought –“ he breaks off, swallowing, closing his eyes and squeezing them shut tight, little tears managing to escape the corners, “I thought maybe we were getting somewhere, I don’t know,” he laughs hollowly, “With Grace here all the time, with – with us communicating a little better. Then you tell me you want to _leave_ and I don’t even fucking know what to do with that.”

“You said okay,” Danny says, eyes wide and confused.

“I said okay because I didn’t know what else to say!” Steve shouts and he loses it, loses it for the first time since Ellie has died, loses it like Danny lost it just moments ago – he slams his fist into the wall and then spins around and slams his fist against the dresser – loses it right in front of Danny. Danny makes a noise in the back of his throat, moves until he’s backed up against the wall and watches him, licks his lips hesitantly as Steve tumbles into a fit of rage, growling and slamming his fist into every hard surface he can find.

“Jesus, Danny,” he says, panting when he whirls around to face him, “What the fuck was I supposed to say to that? You want to get up and run away from everything? You want to run away from our daughter and our jobs and our home? Is that what you really want?”

“I don’t know what I want!” Danny shouts back, flinging his hands into the air, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest, “I don’t know what I want, all I know is I want to _stop feeling this way,_ and all I can think is that maybe I could stop feeling this way if I wasn’t in this fucking house, filled with sadness all the time. If I didn’t have to walk past this fucking room all the time, if I didn’t have to see these fucking butterflies glittering every time the door is open just a little bit or – or,” he breaks off, breathing hard, lets out a choked sob and continues, “All I know, Steve, is that there are some days, those days when I can’t speak, when I can’t even look at you, when I wander into this room – that I want her back. I want her back _so much._ I want to hold her in my arms again and I want to hear her cries and I want to see her face again. I don’t want just a sonogram picture or the picture after she was firstborn. I want her _back_. Those are the days when I don’t know if I can ever be whole again, Steven,” he blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t _really_ cry while he talks.

“Those are the days when I’m not sure even _you_ can fix me.”

Steve doesn’t have anything to say to that.

\--  
They are quiet, tired and worn down in the light of the morning. Steve moves noiselessly around the kitchen getting coffee ready and without words, they know that neither of them are hungry, so they drink their coffee and then move upstairs and get dressed in silence. Steve knows without a doubt that something has suddenly shifted in their relationship, sharp and definitive, dangerous and edged; like glass, he thinks. He’s afraid to try and pick it up; for fear that one of them gets cut beyond repair. He’d rather just step neatly around it; avoid it for the time being, even though he knows that, too, won’t work.

He knows he needs to address it, but like Danny has said, he’s not sure he can fix it.

And for the second time in Steve’s life, he is really and truly _afraid._

They make their way into Headquarters and Steve automatically heads into his office. Danny stays with Chin and Kono, updating himself of their latest case while Steve tries to remind himself how to breathe. When he thinks he’s calmed down enough he heads back out and talks to everyone like everything is normal. Just like always. Just like they’ve always done, he thinks.

They’re good at pretending.  
\--  
Kono finds him. She leans against the entrances to his office, on foot crossed over the other, her head resting on the doorjamb, arms crossed, eyes observing his every move. Steve’s movements are a little shaky from more caffeine than he’s used to and almost no food, his thoughts are unfocused and his mind is racing. Kono shakes her head and bites her lip, then she speaks, “Boss,” she whispers, “You’re falling apart, aren’t you?”

Steve stops in the middle of shoving papers into a manila envelope and stares down at the desk, doesn’t look at her. He thinks about that moment, in the therapist’s office so long ago, when he wanted to tell the kind woman with the soothing tones how he couldn’t see him making it past the death of his daughter; how he couldn’t see _Danny_ getting past it, and he thinks about Kono here, now, calling him out on his own prediction. He takes a shuddering breath and looks up at her.

She gives him a watery smile, “You can tell me the truth,” she says, “I can handle it. I’m tough.”

“I don’t –“ he breathes in sharply, “I can’t – I don’t know _how_ ,” he tries, and Kono steps into the office, closing the door behind her, taking a seat on his couch and staring at him.

“He’s so broken,” he finally whispers, “And I don’t know how to fix him. And he doesn’t think I can fix him. And we’re falling apart, Kono, just falling apart, like you said,” he clears his throat, his grip on the papers and the manila envelope tightening, “I don’t know if we’ll ever make it past this.”

Kono cocks her head to the side, looks at him for a long moment before she asks, “Were you supposed to make it past it, Boss?”

He looks at her.

“Losing a child isn’t something you just move on from, I don’t think,” she murmurs, leaning forward, “I don’t think it’s something you just _make it past,_ whether Ellie had been three days old or thirty years old, you’re never going to make it past losing her. You need to heal, sure. You need to… learn to live without her, but I don’t think you’ll ever make it past. It’s not some hurdle you need to jump over, Boss. It’s real and raw. It’s something that… that’ll break you, if you let it,” she trails off.

“You’re right,” he says suddenly, dropping the papers and jumping up from his seat. Kono jumps a little, narrows her eyes and watches him as he moves, grabbing his keys and his wallet, his cell phone, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything. Danny left long ago to go have a beer with Chin, he knows, so he has to beat him back to the house.

He’s just about to walk out the door when he swings around and wraps her in a hug, surprising her. “Thank you,” he whispers in her ear, “Thank you,” he says again, before he races out the door.

He beats Danny home by five minutes and is pacing through the living room when Danny walks in. Danny looks at him uncertainly and Steve gestures for him to sit down, “Sit, sit,” he says hurriedly, still pacing, “Please, Danno, please,” he says, and the use of the word _Danno_ for the first time in a while is enough to make Danny sit without much protest.

“Let’s sell the house!” Steve says in a rush, swinging his arms wide, gesturing around the living room. Danny’s eyes widen and he looks around slowly to see if Steve is joking. “Danny, I’m not joking. You – you said last night that this house, that that bedroom is a lot of the problem. You’re not – you’re not _wrong_ ,” he says uncertainly, fiddling with his thumbs, chewing on his bottom lip. “I haven’t been willing to change it and you haven’t really, either. But neither of us want to see it either because it reminds us too much of the little girl we almost got to bring home.”

Danny’s sucks in a sharp breath at that, but says nothing.

Steve gets down on his knees, places his hands on Danny’s knees. “Danny, I said I’d take care of you,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers across Danny’s thighs, “I promised I’d make sure you never hurt if I could do anything about it. I think this is what I can do. We can find a new house, one still on the beach. Maybe one even closer to HQ and Grace’s school. Closer to town. One that’s brighter and more updated; one that needs less work constantly. One with French doors that lead out to a balcony from our bedroom to face the beach, hmm?” he mumbles, kissing the inside of Danny’s wrist lightly, the unspoken offer of _one without Ellie’s room_ still lingering in the air. When he looks up, Danny’s chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyeing Steve warily.

“This is your house,” he says unsteadily, like he thinks everything Steve is saying is one big joke.

“No,” Steve shakes his head. “It was our house, it was my parent’s house. But there’s too much sadness in it for us, now, Danno. We need new memories, now. We need to move on.”

Steve suddenly knows with complete certainty what Kono meant when she said you couldn’t move past the death of your child. You can move _on_ certainly, because that’s not forgetting about it, but you cannot move _past_ it, because that’s choosing to forget. His heart speeds up a little, because he knows he never wants to forget little Ellie, gorgeous and beautiful, just three days old when she took her last breath.

He loves her with everything inside of him; he knows Danny does, too.

But it’s time for them to finally move on.

\--  
There’s an extra bedroom in the new McGarrett-Williams home. There’s a bed inside; every few weeks Danny or Steve will slip into the room and throw fresh sheets on the bed in case someone needs to sleep in the room. It’s bright and colorful, a pale yellow with black daisies bordering the top, leftover from the last owners. Grace loved it so much they chose not to change it when they were choosing the other paint colors for the rest of the house – it made it less work, anyways.

Both of them know why they bought a house with three rooms – even Grace knows. It’s there for _one day,_ in case they choose to ever make that decision again, to move into territory unknown, try and become parents once again. It’s still a fear for both of them; Steve never brings it up anymore. He knows now he brought it up just to bring a reaction out of Danny. Grace knows they’re taking they’re time just like she knows one day, she’ll be an older sibling again.

There’s an extra bedroom in the new Williams-McGarrett home and there’s a balcony in the master bedroom, looking out over the ocean so Danny can wake up and see Steve’s figure cutting a path through the water most mornings. There’s more happiness seeping into their hearts, less sadness. Steve can’t even remember the last time Danny had a bad day.

They’re moving on.

 _“If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk  
right up to heaven and bring you home again."  
-Unknown_

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of things that I couldn't have spun this story without, but here, in no particular order, are the following things that I am thankful for:  
> a) Jack's Mannequin and everything that they've ever sang, but mostly _Hammers and Strings (A Lullaby)_ because it carried me through a strange amount of this story and is partly (mostly. okay, FULLY) responsible for the title of the story, as well. Andrew McMahon, you're a lyrical/musical genius.  
>  b) The television show _Private Practice_ because after spending the entire _The Intervention_ two hour special curled up in the fetal position bawling my eyes out something in my brain finally screamed "HEY. GET UP. WRITE." And after two long weeks of leaving this story untouched - I wrote something. Of course then it went untouched for a while again, but I did write.  
>  c) My beautiful, wonderful, amazing, supportive beta who helped me and gave me advice when I needed it the absolute most, when I was terribly, terribly frozen; and then assured me that no - it wasn't cheesy-dramatic, it was okay-angst (which I hope you guys think, too: [simplyn2deep](http://simplyn2deep.livejournal.com/)  
> So thanks, fictional television, music, and people alike. You're saviors. ♥


End file.
